The Slush File
by Jeffrey Vasquez
Summary: A collection of ideas that wouldn't leave me alone. I seriously doubt I'll flesh them out any more than they are, until after I finish my current projects.
1. Nomad 00

Nomad

Ranma watched in desolate horror as Happosai drained the casket of Nannichuan. Numbness washed over him, shutting out the noise of the anger and distress that had exploded among the other denizens of the dojo. Faces flashed before his eyes and he felt something jostle him, but all he could feel was the palpable sense of betrayal. He dimly felt water being poured on him multiple times, but gave no sign of caring one way or another.

He wasn't sure how long he sat amidst the destruction, but the sun had set and everyone left him to sit alone in the dark. The shattered floorboards and broken walls seemed to mimic the ruin of his heart. When he finally stood, it felt as if he were living a dream. The world felt so distant and hollow as he navigated his way out of the dojo and back into the house. He saw Kasumi standing in the kitchen dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and wearing comfortable looking tennis shoes. It was such an odd outfit that he thought he must be dreaming. He saw the backpack at her feet and absently nodded to himself.

That was what he needed. His backpack.

It was time to leave. There was no sense in holding back any more, right? After all, this was a dream, so why not indulge a few fantasies while he had the chance? It wouldn't hurt anyone; not that anyone really cared enough to be hurt. With that thought in mind he serenely walked up to Kasumi and kissed her. It wasn't just any kiss either. He kissed her like he had always dreamed of being kissed: with passion and love. She returned the kiss with as much fervor and enthusiasm as he put in, and when they broke the kiss she was smiling and crying.

He didn't understand the meaning of her tears, but then this was a dream…right? Even with the tears she was unbelievably beautiful. He'd always felt she was the most stunning of the sisters, and had secretly dreamed of winning her love and respect. It was nice to feel that love and respect returned…even if he was imagining the whole thing.

"I'm leaving." His voice seemed to echo surreally, as if he were hearing the words from under water.

"I know." Her voice was just as beautiful as always, even if it were muffled. "May I come with you?"

"Sure."

She nodded and watched as Ranma calmly left the kitchen and climbed the stairs. He heard Akane's subdued crying as he topped the rise, and felt a twinge of sadness. She had meant so much to him, but it was apparent that they weren't meant to be. Today's events had been testament enough of that truth. It would be better if he left now and gave her the peace and quiet she deserved. He was tired of being pushed and forced into things, and he knew that she felt the same. It wasn't as if she loved him.

Not really.

He appreciated the fact that she would be willing to marry him for the cure to his curse, but he could tell that she didn't really want to be there. It was charity for Jusendo, nothing more. If she really had loved him, their relationship wouldn't have been so rough. He padded toward the guestroom and noted the middle sister standing against the wall beside the door.

She was staring at him somewhat tentatively. It wasn't that she was nervous… "unsettled" or "uncertain" were better words for the guarded emotion on Nabiki's face. He smiled softly, gliding up to her just as calmly as he had with Kasumi.

"Saotome." She smirked to cover her lapse.

Ranma's smile became an impish grin. He had long wished that he could best her at this game, and this seemed the perfect forum to practice.

"Tendo."

He waited, just standing there calmly, looking into her eyes. They were soft and warm, reminding him of melted chocolate. He had to admit that she was very attractive. She hadn't become the woman that Kasumi was but, at the same time, she had a sensual allure all her own.

"Did you have something to say, or are you going to oogle my body all night long."

Ranma's grin widened. Why not go for broke?

"I'd like to oogle if you don't mind."

That, from the look of shock on her face, had obviously not been what she had expected. It took her a moment to compose herself, and when she had her smirk had been replaced by a frown.

"You okay, Saotome?" Ranma nodded. "You seem a little off tonight."

Ranma nodded again.

"I'm dreaming."

She smirked.

"What about?"

"Leaving. Getting out from underneath all the crap my old man put me through."

Nabiki nodded sagely.

"Sounds fun. So where are you going?"

"Everywhere." He leaned up against the wall beside her. "Got to find a cure for my curse, so I'll probably have to roam a bit. That's how it always works in the stories."

"So you're bailing on the panda," Ranma nodded. "Good for you. But what about Akane?"

Ranma shrugged.

"She'll be free. It ain't like she wanted the engagement or a perverted freak like me anyway." He couldn't hide from or conceal the bitterness in his voice.

"What if she doesn't want to be free? What if she wants the engagement?" Nabiki countered.

Ranma could only shrug. He didn't have an answer for her.

"So that's just it. You're up and abandoning her?" Nabiki's voice was more than a little angry. Ranma countered the young woman's ire by invading her personal space and cupping her cheek with his palm.

"Ain't like that, Nabs. She hasn't wanted this from the get go, and I ain't gonna sit around and make her life hell any more. She's free to find someone to love on her own terms, and I hope she learns from our mistakes. Maybe the next time around she won't be so scared to show her feelings."

He smiled serenely, caught up in the wisdom and logic of the dream. It all made so much sense looking back on it all. He could see that they had always run from their emotions, more to save what little control they had over their lives than to denounce their feelings for one another. With a sigh he leaned in and touched his forehead to Nabiki's in a warm display of trust and affection.

"She'll be fine, Nabs. She's a tough cookie." He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. Nabiki was speechless. "Just like you."

Ranma kissed her tenderly and stepped back.

"You know, I sometimes wish things coulda gone different. I wonder if we could have made a better go of it, you know? You would have been fun to love."

Nabiki's mask cracked and a variety of emotions played out on her face before the tears started to gather in her eyes. Ranma slid forward and kissed her again, just as passionately and heatedly as he had her older sister. Nabiki moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, unwilling to let go. Ranma pulled her close, deepening the kiss until she grew too weak to continue. He eased her to the floor where she broke down and let the tears flow for the first time in years. Ranma kissed the top of her head and left her sitting outside the door of his room. Packing was surprisingly quick, with no interference from the Old Man. Ranma didn't think anything of the fact that the fat bastard was absent from his dream. In fact, the less he saw of his father the better. He shouldered his pack and turned to leave, but pulled up short at the sight of Akane standing in a pool of moonlight.

"You're leaving." Her voice was all but devoid of emotion.

Ranma nodded and removed the pack. He opened his arms to her and she ran to him, weeping. He held her for a very long time, stroking her back and running his fingers through her hair. She clung to him desperately, but he made no move to break the embrace.

"I don't want you to go. Not now. Not like this."

"It's for the best." Ranma whispered into her hair.

"Please. Stay. I need you."

"You don't need me, Akane-chan." He smiled softly. "You're strong enough to stand on your own."

"I love you! Doesn't that mean something to you?"

Ranma kissed her. It wasn't as passionate or as needy as the other kisses, but it held just as much love.

"It means the world to me, Akane-chan."

"Then why leave?" She demanded. "We can make this work! I know we can."

Ranma shook his head and his smile deepened.

"It's time for you to find true love, Akane-chan. Go out there and find a man who will love you like I couldn't."

"You love me! I know it!" Her fists tightened on the front of his shirt and then began to pound against his chest. "You killed for me damn it! That means you love me!"

"Of course I love you, Tomboy." He trapped her hands against his chest as he pulled her close. "A part of me always will. But you know as well as I do that you'd never be happy with me."

"So, you're going to elope with one of the other hussies, is that it?" Her tear-streaked face became angry and she thrashed to escape his embrace. "Let go of me! Damn you! LET GO!"

He held her close, blocking and evading her knees and feet, as her angry cries slowly turned to heart wrenching sobs. She collapsed in his arms, becoming dead weight. Ranma pulled her effortlessly into his arms and carried her back to her room. He whispered to her the entire way, telling her all the things he'd never found the strength to in his waking life. He told her of his love and his dreams for her. He opened the future for her, illuminating the life she could lead.

She clung to him urgently as he gently placed her in bed, and in a frantic display of panic began kissing him. She kissed his lips, and his face and neck. She found his hands and fingers, and when Ranma didn't respond she sat up and wrapped her legs around his waist. She grabbed his face in her hands and gave him all her passion in one breathtaking, fiery kiss. She released his head and fumbled with the buttons of her pajamas, getting as far as exposing a generous amount of cleavage before Ranma could clasp her wrists.

"Take me…please." She begged in a beseeching whisper. "I'll…you can…."

Ranma placed his fingers over her lips to silence her.

"This isn't what you want Akane-chan and, as much as I love you, I could never steal this moment from you. Not even in a dream." He smiled brightly. "Don't waste something so precious on me."

"It's not a waste. I need this! Please!" she tugged free of his grasp and threaded her fingers into his hair. Ranma closed his eyes and sighed. "Please, just give me this one night to remember you by."

"I…I can't Akane-chan." He looked at her pleadingly. "I love you too much to soil your honor like that. Please don't ask me again."

She searched his eyes for a long time before hanging her head and nodding. He slowly buttoned up her shirt and leaned in to kiss her neck right below her jaw. She shivered and giggled.

"Pervert."

He grinned.

"Tomboy."

"I love you, Ranma."

"I know." Like he had with Nabiki, he brushed her cheek with his knuckles. She leaned into his touch.

"Thanks." She smiled up at him.

"For what?"

"For proving that all boys aren't walking hormones." She ran her thumb across his bottom lip. "For making life interesting."

Ranma laughed and shook his head.

"Interesting?"

They laughed together until their sides ached. It was a moment happy and free from the weight of their pasts. It was simply two friends basking in a moment of delightful mirth. Both had longed for such a moment and Ranma wished with all of his heart that this could be real instead of a dream. But all moments come to an end, for good or ill, and this golden time was no different.

"You won't forget me will you?"

He shot her a wry grin.

"Like I'd be able to."

He kissed her one last time and made to leave, but Akane grabbed up his hand and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Come back to us."

He held her tight and nodded.

"Some day."

"Be safe."

He nodded and separated wiping Akane's tears away with his thumbs. There was a strange sense of pain that clutched his heart as he released her. A part of him wanted to turn back so badly that he could almost taste it, but somehow he managed to make it to the door. The rest of his journey through the Tendo home was little more than a blur. He wrote a note to his father declaring his intentions and then he left the only home he'd ever known for the last time. Kasumi was waiting for him at the gate with a soft smile.

They looked back to the house together and saw Akane and Nabiki watching them from the front step. The sisters held each other and waved. And then, with only three more steps, one of Ranma's dreams ended and another began.


	2. Nomad 01

Nomad:

A multi crossover

Author's notes:

Due to the ambiguity of the Ranma ½ timeline, I am taking some liberties with the calendar.

Chapter One

From the Journal of Kasumi Tendo:

Friday, March 13, 1992

_We have at last made it to Kumbalari. A speck of a country crammed in between the borders of Nepal, India, Bhutan, and Tibet. The Himalayas are breath taking as always, and it is with relief that we have finally found Teku Benga. Our friends from the BPRD have come through yet again. Hellboy and Abe decided to kill two birds with one stone by coming with us on this trip. _

_The first: to investigate an eighty four year old mystery left to Hellboy by his foster father, Professor Trevor Bruttenholm, concerning the brother of an old teacher – one Oswald Bastable. Bastable disappeared in 1902 while leading a contingent of men to put down an insurrection in the Theocracy of Kumbalari. It was recorded that he entered the city of Teku Benga, to negotiate the surrender of the Kumbalaris, but he never left. Official military reports record him as MIA, with the likely presumption that he is dead. Unofficial inquiry reported otherwise and by the time Professor Bruttenholm had collected enough information for the expedition, other pressing matters stole his attention away from putting a ghost to rest._

_The second stone is closer to my heart and, as such, holds more weight and importance for me – aiding Ranma in finding a cure for his curse._

_Our inclusion in this endeavor was luck at best. Ranma and I have had dealings with the BPRD since shortly after leaving home in August 1991. It was by chance we met up with Hellboy and Abe again in Calcutta, while tracking down one of Ranma's old teachers, a venerable guru by the name of Ghahajim. Upon leaving Ghahajim's sanctuary, we spotted the familiar hulking form of our friend speaking to our guide's great grandfather, Subadar Bisht. Bisht was an elderly gentleman of noble carriage. As a former officer in her Majesty's army and Commander of the 9__th__ Ghoorka Infantry, served under Captain Bastable during the assault on Teku Benga. His directions have led us unerringly to our destination._

_I am uncertain if we will find anything of use here, but according to the notes Abe has graciously allowed me to study, the entire city of Teku Benga is one large temple. Subadar Bisht described it as "a place where all gods preside…" – something that I cannot really discount at all. At first glance, the ruins of the city reminded me of pictures I'd seen of the bombed buildings of Europe and Japan after World War Two. However, the more we have explored, the more I can see the truth of Subadar's words. There are remnants of every religion here, from Western Christianity to polytheist Persia. From Zen Buddhism to ancient Mayan and Aztec Sun worship. It is a cornucopia of disparate faiths, and the whole jumble seems at odds with itself._

_One would think it the ultimate oasis for the Utopian mindset but being here, amongst the skeletal remains of this long dead society…I cannot help but feel that the Kumbalaris held no reverence for religion…only contempt. Abe concurs with me and is looking forward to being done with the place. I cannot agree with him more._

_On a lighter note, a part of me is wishing Liz were here, if for no other reason than to have another woman to offset the rising testosterone levels building between Ranma and Hellboy. "Red" has taken Ranma under his wing as something of a surrogate little brother, coaching him on the finer points of cynical bravado and farting. Ranma has yet to partake in the odious cigar habit, but Hellboy's cavalier humor has definitely made a serious impression on him._

_Tomorrow we will explore the Temple of the Ninth Buddha and one or two of the other more intact buildings for clues. It is my hope to get Ranma alone for some "quality" time, since we've had very little of late._

_-- TK_

The temple of Ometecuhtli was surprisingly undamaged when Ranma and Kasumi came upon it on their third day of exploration. Hellboy and Abe had lost themselves in one of the other buildings an hour after they'd started this morning, leaving Kasumi alone with Ranma for the first time in weeks.

It had been a long, uphill struggle for the couple since they left the Tendo Dojo on that warm August night almost two years ago. It had taken Kasumi almost a year and a half to get a repeat performance out of Ranma, but she was proud of the fact that she was methodically breaking down his paranoia of intimacy. She'd gotten him to hold her hand in public without blushing or looking over his shoulder every five minutes. They were able to share a tent now without him waking up in terror of reprisal and even had a dozen or so make out sessions…a few of which even resulted in her having a hickey or two.

If it had been anyone else but Ranma, or if she hadn't had that first majestic kiss to remind her of what he was capable of, she would have probably gone home by now. But it was Ranma, she had experienced that one magical kiss, and Ranma had frequently demonstrated just how wonderful life could be – she was having the time of her life, even if they were still stuck somewhere between second and third base. Sooner or later, she knew that he would crack. Until that time, she would continue to be patient and understanding – relishing the beauty of their friendship and help her dearest friend heal from the scars of his youth, even as he helped her heal her own deep wounds.

Kasumi grinned impishly and seized an opportunity to pinch Ranma's bottom, causing him to yelp and jump. The opening came as he spun to glare at her and she took it. The poor young man didn't know what hit him as she tackled him to the packed dirt inside the temple's main courtyard. Sunlight pooled around them as Kasumi hungrily stole kiss after kiss, sucking on Ranma's lower lip playfully when she finally broke for air.

"What was that for?" He asked with a content smile.

"What can I say? You're irresistible." She kissed his nose and nuzzled his cheek.

The thick, winter clothing they were forced to wear at these altitudes made it difficult to snuggle, but Kasumi wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to remind Ranma that she was a woman with needs. If anything, the crisp late winter air made her even more excited. Maybe she could zip the sleeping bags together like she had done a couple of weeks ago? So long as she had pajamas on, she was certain Ranma wouldn't relapse.

Damn post-traumatic syndrome.

She looked into Ranma's startling slate-blue eyes and saw his own wonder staring back at her.

"I know you are, but what am I?" He matched her grin pound for pound.

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Promise?"

Kasumi wiggled her eyebrows and kissed his neck with great enthusiasm drawing a moan from her love interest. The flirting was something new that had been developing over the last month and a half, and she loved the playful banter more than anything. Their first year together, he had treated her like a porcelain doll – something she had resented at the time, but in hindsight had come to greatly appreciate. Their second year together was one eye opener after another as Kasumi insisted he teach her the Art. Ranma had found new respect for her then, not for her skill in the Art but for her dedication to it. Likewise, she had gained a new admiration for the young man as he did his best to unlearn all the bad habits that Genma had forced down his throat.

He'd graduated high school within three months of their departure from Nerima and together they managed to push themselves through an accelerated degree program in the States. It was an insane time for them both and the work had been grueling; but the BPRD and its Japanese equivalent had given them the opportunity for free schooling and Kasumi wasn't one to pass up the possibility of a higher education. She'd always dreamed of college and, while their degrees were in things that directly benefited the BPRD, she wasn't going to complain. With their undergrad work out of the way, they were now working on their Master's levels via correspondence.

Her focus had shifted from practical medicine to biology, with a focus on physiology and cryptozoology, while Ranma had decided to focus on physics and parapsychology. Needless to say, the boys at the Rhine Research Center had fallen in love with Ranma – and not just because he could change genders at the drop of a cup either. He validated a number of esoteric theories and drove the physicists and mainstream skeptics bonkers. The BPRD had to officially step in and suppress the findings, paying off a number of people and greasing the wheels of the research center for a long time to come. In the end though, it was worth it. The RRC became an unofficial think tank and a filtering ground for a number of projects that the BPRD and its affiliates had gathering dust. And they owed it all to Ranma getting drenched by some clumsy nerd with a glass of lemonade.

She had to smile at that memory.

Who, from their old lives, would have ever guessed that Ranma could be a scholar? Three years ago, Kasumi would have bet good money against the prospect. Yet, it was safe to say that both had changed since leaving Nerima, and their educations were only the tip of the iceberg.

A new and very empowering world had been opened to them, especially after Ranma had decided to develop a new style for his Art that centered completely on learning. He had taken Genma's "everything is training" to the next, albeit insane, level – and drug Kasumi kicking and screaming along the way. Not that she could complain. She'd gotten a four-year degree in record time, and had a near-perfect grade point average doing it thanks to Ranma's insanity. It was one more thing that she loved about him.

Nothing was impossible where Ranma was concerned.

Ranma groaned again as Kasumi found the "sweet spot" below his left ear. She grinned and nibbled on his earlobe causing him to cross his eyes and suck in a quick breath. Man, was she good!

"You're insatiable, Kasumi-chan!"

"You're more than welcome to try." She purred. Ranma swallowed and grinned even more than before.

"I'd die in the process."

"But at least you'd die with a smile on your face." She countered.

"Can't argue with that." He conceded.

"So you're not going to try?" She asked with obvious disappointment. When he didn't immediately respond she stuck out her bottom lip and pouted cutely.

"I'd prefer to have a hospital nearby just in case." He rubbed his nose against hers and then kissed her with just enough passion to take her breath away. She nuzzled his neck weakly and tried not to pant.

"I'm…I'm going…to hold you to that, mister." She ran her hand under his coat and poked him in a deliciously sensitive spot on his side, causing him to wriggle and writhe beneath her.

"Kasumi!"

His protests soon degraded into a tickle war that left the courtyard of Ometecuhtli's temple filled with peals of laughter and squeals of delight. The entertaining battle wavered after only five minutes, and devolved into a rather heated necking session that left both participants flushed and excited. Had it not been for the fact that they were in a long dead city, rife with a profane spirit, things might have progressed to the level Kasumi had been hoping for. Unfortunately, Ranma's acute senses brought them both up short, effectively dowsing their ardor under the wet blanket of danger.

"What is it?" She stretched her senses as he had taught her, but had a hard time filtering out the background noise.

"We're being watched." He growled.

"Well, I hope Red liked the show." Kasumi growled.

"Ain't Hellboy or Abe." Ranma whispered, slowly rolling off his companion. He did a credible job of pretending fatigue. "It's northwest of us about four hundred feet and up about fifty."

Kasumi resisted the urge to look. She'd learned early on in Happosai's tenure at the dojo that it was better to lure Peeping Toms into a false sense of security before springing your trap on them. The initial foreboding she'd had upon entering Teku Benga returned full force under the scrutiny of their voyeur. A sudden smell of decay and disease slammed into Kasumi's nostrils, leaving her wanting to cough and gag. It was only the knowledge that they needed surprise on their side that kept her from exploding into a fit then and there. As it was, her eyes were watering something fierce.

"Bastard's just going to sit there and watch us."

Ranma discretely fingered the radio headset on and tapped it beneath the guise of slipping his arm under Kasumi's neck. It was a calculated move that would allow him to pull her to safety should the need arise.

"Marco." Ranma whispered into the air. The headset's mike could pick up a fly farting at a hundred yards, or so Hellboy claimed. She hoped he was right.

"_Polo." _ Hellboy's gruff baritone sounded from her headset.

"Got a pervert up here, Red."

"_Misty got caught ravishing you again, eh?_" Kasumi blushed and rolled her eyes. "_She get past second base this time?_"

The suggestion made Ranma blush even worse than Kasumi had. She wanted to laugh, but held it in against the vile air that had gathered over them.

"Shove it, Monkey Boy." He growled. "We got ourselves a class A Stinker up here, Pervert, and he's creeping me out."

It was the closest thing to Ranma admitting he was scared. And to think, it had only taken a couple of non-humanoid, Rank 7 Cthulu rejects to break down the walls of his bravado….

"Okay. Okay. Don't get your panties in a twist, we're coming. Give us your position."

"A temple to Ometecuhtli, south, southeast of the main square. We're in the courtyard."

"_Daaaamn. Misty doesn't waste any time, does she?_"

"Keep it up, jackass, and I'll introduce you to a little maneuver I picked up last month." Ranma snarled.

"Promises, promises." Hellboy taunted.

"Maybe we should tell Liz about the Paris incident." Kasumi whispered into her mike. "Or better yet, that blonde number from Berlin."

"_Oh…heh…there's no need to get nasty now, is there?_"

Ranma grinned at her and winked. Kasumi simply raised her eyebrow in a very familiar gesture that Ranma had come to associate with Nabiki at her best or worst…depending on which end of the stick you happened to be.

"That depends on how long it takes you to get that stubby little tail up here." Ranma hissed.

"_Hey now! That's below the belt, Shirotama._"

"And your panty crack wasn't?"

"_Play nice, children._" Abe's cultured voice cut through Ranma's growling. "_We're coming up on the…I see him, Ranma. He's a fairly ugly little man isn't he?_"

"What is it about perverted little geezers coping feels and getting their jollies peeping on people." Ranma's disgusted exasperation was fairly palpable.

"_I sense a story here."_ Hellboy whispered. "_We got us a fireside chat to look forward to Blue."_

"Rome. Last May." Ranma ground out.

"_I'll be good._" Hellboy squeaked.

"Damn straight."

Ranma pulled Kasumi closer to him in an unconscious display of affection and protectiveness. It would have made her feel warm and gooey inside, had it not been for the incongruity of the situation they were in.

"What do you got for me, Abe?"

"_Well, he's older than me._" He said. "_Lots older from the feel of things._"

"Okay, that narrows it down a bit." Ranma groused.

"_Touchy!"_ The amphibious man chortled.

Kasumi just had to add her two scents.

"You would be grouchy too if some guy was interrupting your fun!"

"Kasumi!"

"Tell me I'm wrong." She countered.

"This is not the time for this discussion."

"_I've lost visual._" Abe's voice became serious.

"I can feel him moving down and…Holy Crap! His aura just disappeared!" Ranma sat up and scanned the courtyard. He pulled Kasumi to her feet and the pair stood back to back as Hellboy and Abe entered the far end of the plaza.

Kasumi could feel the air….twist and knot some fifteen feet in front of her. Ranma pulled her behind him and prepared himself for a fight. Hellboy and Abe crossed the courtyard in record time to flank the old man that seemed to appear out of thin air.

If there was one word to describe the man before them, it was "devil."

There was a palpable sense of maliciousness etched in his wrinkled face, and his eyes made Kasumi feel small and frightened. It was like being a terrified little girl all over again, staring out into the darkness of her room and into the depths of the open closet. She shivered and pressed closer to Ranma. The aura of power that exuded from the figure belied his frail, stick-like appearance.

The ancient man remained impassive, save for folding his arms serenely in the voluminous sleeves of his elaborate robes. It was an act of charity for those watching as he covered up his bony torso.

The crimson brocade of his robe had hundreds of tiny, fingernail sized, mirrors stitched into the fabric. The brightness of the garment felt terribly at odds with the destruction of this place. His head was adorned with the strangest hat. It was tall, but the base hugged his head like a skullcap. It was made of odd leather that was painted a deep red so dark it was almost black. The magnificent frill of bizarre feathers added to the height and reminded Kasumi of the stiff, brushy, horsehair helms used by the Spartans and Greeks.

The feathers themselves had a metallic sheen and changed colors depending on the way the light hit them. But the thing that drew her eyes the most were the strange, tooled designs that accented the skullcap. The inlaid gold, platinum, precious gems, and polished ivory made the symbols seem to dance and squirm across his head. The wealth was completely at odds with the hundreds of long greasy braids that hung from beneath the hat. In spite of all this finery, or perhaps because of it, Kasumi felt a distinct loathing for the foul little man.

"Yo, Gramps." Hellboy pulled a cigar from his coat pocket and carefully lit it with a match. Kasumi noted that his left hand ended up resting on that cannon he insisted was a handgun.

"I see you 'End of All Things' and bid you welcome to Teku Benga."

He bowed then turned to Abe next. The words he spoke to the Icthyosapien reminded Kasumi of a mix between whale song and dolphin chatter. When he turned to Ranma his words shifted to perfectly unaccented Japanese.

"I see you God-Slayer. Your spirit shines like the sun." Kasumi wasn't sure whether she should have felt grateful or offended that the skeletal geezer chose to ignore her presence completely. "I am Sharan Kang, last of the Enlightened Sons of Kumbulari."

Hellboy nodded but didn't answer. His attention was divided between the old man and Abe, who seemed very troubled. Kasumi found herself wondering what Sharan Kang said to him that was so upsetting. Ranma relaxed his stance a bit, but the "no-stance" he'd fallen into was a sign of just how serious he was taking the confrontation. Since no one was speaking, Kasumi felt it her duty to act as the diplomatic liaison.

"Thank you for your welcome, Mister Kang. We are here seeking knowledge…."

"You presume much to speak out of turn, _woman_."

The contemptuous look Kang shot her made her shrink back. She felt something vile caress her skin and she trembled involuntarily. Ranma stepped in front of her again, thankfully blocking the man's line of sight and abruptly ending the creepy sensation.

"I know why you are here, and will gladly part with my knowledge." He turned and started walking from the courtyard, motioning for everyone to follow him. "Come, we will retire to the Temple of the Future Buddha and find refreshment for ourselves."

He left without glancing back. Ranma and Hellboy shared a meaningful look and nodded. Ranma slid his hand in hers as Hellboy nudged Abe from his reverie.

"Stay close."

It seemed a silly thing to say, but Ranma hammered the statement home by quickly stringing together a chain of carabiners and hooked them to the climbing harness that they both were wearing.

"Are you afraid you're going to lose me?" Kasumi traced a finger along his chin as they walked.

"I ain't taking any chances with this guy."

His gruff seriousness squashed her playful attempts to lighten the mood. The rest of the trip was made in silence, and by the time they had reached the Temple of the Future Buddha the tension left everyone looking over their shoulders. The temple itself was huge and ornate to the point of grotesque. It towered over the rest of ruins and by some miracle or magic, it was the only building that had been left untouched by whatever cataclysm had destroyed Teku Benga.

The mixture of architectural styles was sickening; domes and minarets, terraced pagoda-style roofs formed a mismatched covering for the palatial edifice. Spiraling finials capped the minarets and towers, while monstrous creatures of stone, straight from myth and legend, looked down upon the quintet from their perches atop the lattice walls. The building's coloring was a patchwork of disparate colors. The primary colors were deep Hunter's green and bright saffron, but it seemed to Kasumi's mind that every imaginable color was used as an accent. Bloody crimson, lapis lazuli, turquoise, and gold – the mélange instilled nothing but foreboding in Kasumi with it's apparent effrontery to the natural order of good taste.

What sort of twisted inhuman mind could enjoy such…chaos?

"Who ever pulled this outta their butt should be taken out and shot." Hellboy whispered to Ranma and Kasumi as their stopped outside of the towering Mahogany doors.

"They were ritually beheaded immediately after the Temple of the Future Buddha was completed." Sharan Kang said. The reverence in his voice was terribly unsettling.

Sharan Kang clapped his hands twice, and the sound of the act echoed hollowly against the doors. There was a loud "boom" and then a slow tortured groan as the massive doors swung open. Kasumi gasped at the sight of thirty or forty women and girls of various ages pushing the portals open to admit Kang and his visitors. They wore little more than rags and looked terribly malnourished. Ranma looked just as disgusted as she felt, but Hellboy and Abe followed Sharan Kang without hesitating. Their stony faces made it apparent that they weren't as detached as they wanted everyone to think.

They followed the thin man through the sweeping system of maze like corridors, turning at random and doubling back on themselves at odd moments. There was no pattern, no rhyme or reason to the path that Sharan Kang took, and it disturbed Kasumi more than a little that their guide seemed well at ease with the meaningless ambling. The cloying scent of incense grew heavier and heavier the longer they walked, and the dark hallways became darker still as the sputtering bowls of flaming oil became fewer and farther in between. Through the haze of her confusion, Kasumi wondered at the oddity of the temple. There were no representations of the Buddha or hints at any prophetic occurrence that would herald his coming. It was a place devoid of life and spirituality; a place that seemed more a tomb than a temple to some future saint.

It was amidst these thoughts that they finally arrived at their destination. The chamber was moderately sized and filled with a large assortment of soft, silk cushions that surrounded a low table loaded with food and drink. Kasumi might not have developed Ranma's finely tuned instincts for danger, but even she could feel the weight of menace in this room. Her dear friend seemed torn between his instinct to feed and his intuition.

Sharan motioned for everyone to sit and he clapped his hands three times. Four very beautiful, bare breasted, women entered the room and began serving food. Kasumi was once again not included, a gesture that was beginning to grate on her nerves. Ranma's eyes drifted at the voluptuous women for an instant, but quickly focused back on Sharan Kang. She distinctly heard him mumble something about her being "hotter" than the harem girls, which brought a small smile to her lips. Once the plates were filled, each of the women placed a light silver bowl filled with warm water before their charges.

Sharan washed his hands in the water and held his hands out for his attendant to dry with a silken towel, before motioning to the others to do the same. Ranma reluctantly followed the lead of Hellboy and Abe, and washed his hands.

"Let us eat and drink together." Kang gestured to the food. "Once our bodies are filled, we may discuss the whereabouts of Captain Bastable and the 'cure' for the God Slayer's curse."

Kang's appetite was as healthy as Ranma's it seemed, and Kasumi was grateful that there was a large quantity of food. To her surprise Ranma ate very little, but he did take the time to feed her a small portion of the food on his plate once he'd deemed that it wasn't poisoned. This seemed to both annoy and amuse Sharan Kang and from the way that his gaze settled on her, Kasumi knew that he saw her as Ranma's "pet" more than his companion. Rather than discourage that view, she played along and allowed Ranma to continue to feed her more of the delicious food.

After they'd eaten their fill Sharan lounged back into the pillows, pulling his attendant to him. The woman seemed content to caress the man's arms and chest, and toy with his greasy braids. Kasumi immediately saw the attraction and absently began to do the same to Ranma. The heat in the room seemed to rise making Kasumi uncomfortable enough to shed her heavy coat and loosen the buttons on her blouse. She returned her attention back to Ranma, whose eyes had never once left Sharan Kang's form. Hellboy and Abe both seemed to relax considerably under the ministrations of their attendants.

The room seemed larger than it had a short time ago, but Kasumi barely noticed. Her interest was fixed exclusively on Ranma, and she hardly cared at all when Ranma's attendant took up a position opposite her and mimicked her every move. The heat in the room continued to grow and Kasumi felt driven to ease her discomfort by unbuttoning more buttons. It was getting bad enough that she was having a hard time thinking straight at all.

"What was in the food?" Ranma's voice growled. Kasumi giggled at the thought that her man was getting ready to discipline someone.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you." Sharan's voice sounded so pleasant and benevolent, she couldn't believe that she'd ever thought ill of him.

"What have you done to Kasumi?"

A blast of cold air made her skin prickle and Ranma's attendant let out a tiny scream of fright as an aura of frigid flames snapped to life around the young man. Hellboy's gun was out of its holster and all but pressed against Kang's forehead. Abe shrugged free of the woman hanging off of him and clenched his fists around one of the knives still at the table.

"Oooo! Oh my!" Kasumi giggled and wrapped her arms around Ranma's waist drunkenly. "I love you, Ranma! Can I have your babies?"

"I ain't going to ask again old man." The power in Ranma's voice caused Kasumi to shiver with delight. "Tell me what you did or I'll introduce you to the true meaning of Hell on Earth."

"Calm yourself God Slayer, no harm has befallen your woman. She is merely realizing her true place in the larger scheme of things."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ranma's aura flared, flash freezing the warm water in the washbowls situated around the table.

"We four are as Gods among men, and it is no accident that you have come to Teku Benga. The souls of the Kumbalari called to you and brought you to this place."

"Gramps, your hat's on too tight. The only person that brought me here was me." Hellboy's voice was laced with threat. "Undo the whammy on Kasumi before we see how bulletproof that melon on your shoulders is."

"There is nothing to undo, Anung Un Rama. This is the Room of Truth, wherein all men realize their fullest potentials."

As if to accentuate his point, a ghostly crown of flames began to flicker to life over Hellboy's head. The runes on his stone hand began to glow and his horns began to lengthen and grow. Fire and smoke started to leap from his mouth with each breath, and Kasumi felt a welling terror begin to grow in her stomach. The attendants screamed and bolted, and Kasumi tried to go with them but the chain of carabiners arrested her momentum. When Ranma wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, all the fear and tension oozed out of her. A warmth and sense of security filled her and eased her every concern.

She closed her eyes and the world spun away into a dream of love and passion.

Ranma felt Kasumi fall against his side and, ignoring the feeling of dark terror building in him at the sight Hellboy's demonic form, he launched himself across the small table and shattered Sharan Kang's jaw. The power of the blow lifted the man from his pillows and knocked him across the room and completely through the wall of cut stones at the old man's back. There was a loud "CRACK" and an echoing groan that reminded Ranma of the Orochi of Ryugenzawa.

He turned in time to see the crown of flames vanish from above Hellboy's head. Clutched in his friend's hands were the smoothly curved horns that had grown only moments before. Abe, looking so much more…fishy, stood at his friend's side looking at the hole Sharan Kang had made.

"Damn. I really hate it when that happens." Hellboy stashed the horns in a coat pocket with a sigh. "I'm gonna have a headache for days. Stupid bastard."

Ranma snorted and shook his head.

"You going to be okay, Red?"

"Yeah." He looked down at Kasumi's sleeping body and picked up his gun. "Get Misty back to camp, kid. Abe and I have a few things to _discuss_ with our host."

"Be sure to kick him a couple times for me, eh Blue?" Ranma carefully buttoned her shirt and gathered Kasumi's coat before lifting the young woman into his arms.

"We'll make sure he understands the proper way to treat a lady, Ranma." Abe smiled darkly.

"Gimme a call if you need a hand."

Ranma didn't wait to watch the beat down begin. Assuming that Sharan Kang survived his trip through the wall, (something these fruitcake sorcerers tended to be awfully good at) he knew things were going to get dicey real quick. Case in point: very large, very ugly stone golems coming to life around him. These jerks always seemed to have this kind of crap. It was damn annoying.

Kasumi's safety was paramount, and as such, Ranma didn't waste time dealing with the living statues as he probably should have. He'd damaged them in his passing, but they were still largely intact. Red was going to be pissed. Nothing for it though. He wasn't going to play the odds with Kasumi's life in the balance. Best to get her to safety first and then come back. He ran down the hallway and came to a five-way split; the hall he was in continued forward with two others running off the junction at a diagonal. The last was a set of stairs going down. He knew they'd remained on the same level on their trip in, so the stairs were immediately out of the running.

"Stupid bloody labyrinth." He hissed. "I hate perverted wizards. They're always screwing with your head."

He growled and ran down the left hallway. He ran forever, or so it seemed, before finally pausing when he felt it was safe. Kasumi's breathing was steady and strong; something he was intensely grateful for. A number of things bothered him about his situation: first, he was lost – that was never good. Second, it was really quiet – that usually meant something worse. And third it was dark. He hated the dark. It always reminded him of the pit and the pit always reminded him of…them.

Ranma tried to put the little demons out of his mind so that he could think through the situation. Lost in the dark, in a jackass wizard's loony palace with absolutely no sound. At the very least he should have heard Hellboy and Abe dealing with the golems, but the air was still and silent. Yup, damn creepy alright. He dug around in his coat's sleeve pockets for the shaker lamp and once he found it proceeded to shed some light on their surroundings. As the beam illuminated the walls of the corridor, he immediately wished he hadn't turned the damn thing on.

The walls were covered in grotesque carvings, depicting demons and monsters devouring…well, just about every damn thing imaginable. Priceless jewels filled the eye sockets of the fiendish creatures, casting Ranma's light back at him malevolently. He grimaced as he inspected them, and shattered one particularly repulsive image out right. The gems and other priceless ornamentation fell to his feet as the ancient section of wall trembled.

He wanted to destroy the whole damn place, but that would just get Kasumi hurt. He settled next to the young woman and sighed. How did he get into these messes? It just didn't make any sense to him. He stared at the large fist sized diamonds and rubies for a long time before finally scooping them up and pocketing them in his flack pack. He stuffed a few of the emeralds and a handful of the golden scales into Kasumi's fanny pack and pockets too.

There were many, what he assumed to be, palm sized silver scales that found their way into their pockets as well. The young martial artist regretted never really exploring Mousse's Hidden Weapons style further than the basics. It would have come in pretty useful right now. Ranma pocketed a few more of the choice trinkets with a grim smile. As far as he was concerned, the bastard owed them for all the crap he put Kasumi through. The least the geriatric idiot could do was fund the next few months of the trip, assuming all this stuff was real.

He settled back down and began debating if he should retrace his steps, or wait until Kasumi was up and about. He sighed as she leaned into him and let out a cute little snore. It looked like she was going to be out for a while. He gently adjusted her so that her head was pillowed as comfortably as possible on his rolled up coat. He couldn't risk being encumbered if they needed to move fast, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if she had to suffer anymore because of him.

He toyed with her hair and sighed again.

Of all the people to follow him out of Nerima, she had never even made his top ten list. Not because she wasn't worthy, but because she was in a league all of her own. She deserved so much more and yet, here she was traipsing all over hell and high water with him in this dead end quest for a cure. He couldn't understand her reasons for it either. Out of all the men in the world to willingly attach herself too, here she was chaining herself down to him. Sure he'd improved himself, but he was still a far cry from being worthy of her. She was the sun and he always felt like a worm around her.

The sad thing was, he'd come to love her. A lot.

He'd had a long time to think about it, and he knew for a fact that what he felt was something stronger than anything he'd ever experienced before. The path of his thoughts was well worn, and try as he might he couldn't escape the simple truth that Kasumi loved him too. He really didn't understand what was holding him back from embracing that truth, but he did know that her quiet patience and not so subtle kisses had gone a long way to wearing him down. It was only a matter of time before he gave into her.

He only hoped that he didn't disappoint her.

Ranma let his chin drop to his chest and took a deep breath. There was the epiphany. That was the anchor holding him back. He was afraid. There was very little that scared him as much as hurting Kasumi did. It made him sick to think about it. Still, if she loved him enough to stick with him through all the crap he'd drug her into, then it was well past time to return the favor. The only problem was, how to go about telling her? Did he just come out and say it, or should he let her take the lead and go with the flow? He palmed his forehead and watched his companion's breathing carefully.

"Slow and steady, Ranma." He whispered. "Besides, this ain't really the time or place to be thinking about this."

As if to punctuate his statement, the ground began to toss and shake.

"Aww, crap!" He growled.

Kasumi woke with a little scream as more of the jewels and finery fell from the ostentatious walls.

"Gimme a break damn it!" He screamed to the ceiling.

The sight of the mortar and stone being shaken loose made his heart clench tightly. He scooped Kasumi into his arms, barely giving her time to collect his coat. Large blocks of stone, easily weighing several tons a piece began to crash around them.

Kasumi clung to Ranma with a death grip, and the only things between them and being squished were his superhuman reflexes and his desire to protect her. Looking back on the moment, Ranma would note that he'd achieved a unity of mind, body, and spirit that he'd always dreamed about. It would be the focus of years to come in his training to repeat, let alone perfect the experience.

By the time the quake had stopped and the dust had settled, Ranma and Kasumi had somehow made it close to an exit. Both could see thin streams of sunlight filtering through the cracks and holes of the fallen stones, but Ranma was content to just breathe at the moment. Ranma gently set Kasumi down and collapsed in a heap.

"Damn…[pant]…it…[wheeze]…Red!" He closed his eyes and tired to keep from hyperventilating. "Why's…[cough]…why's he always…[gasp]…got to bring the house…[Cough! Cough!]…down on our heads?"

Kasumi settled herself on the ground and pulled his head into her lap.

"At least we're alive." She caressed his cheek.

Ranma's breath began to even out and he opened his eyes. Kasumi looked troubled for a moment and then graced him with a radiant smile.

"You okay?"

She nodded and bent forward to kiss him. Her lips were soft and her hair tickled his chin. When she broke the kiss, her smile was even brighter.

"Thanks to you."

"Good." Ranma nodded and returned her smile. "Let's see if we can't keep it that way. Mom would kill me if I let my girlfriend get hurt."

He sat up and began examining the way the stones were stacked, not realizing the impact his words had on the woman behind him.

"Damn. I really need to learn the Breaking Point." He mused. "It looks like we can climb up there." He pointed out the path leading up to a moderate sized gap. "Depending on the way the stones are packed there, I'd say that was our way out. What do you think?"

He turned to her and found the one thing that he'd dreaded more than anything in the world: a crying Kasumi. He started to panic and retrace his words. What had he said? What had he said?

"Kasumi-chan…I…I'm sor...!"

He was surprised by the force of her tackle and the passion backing her kiss; it was needy and happy and full of excitement all that the same time. She continued to kiss his face and neck, ignoring the taste of sweat and dust. Giggling happily, she worked her way back to his lips. Ranma tried to get her to ease up, but in an unanticipated display of strength she was able to keep him pinned and at her mercy. When she finally stopped, she rested her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder and sighed contentedly.

"I'm not letting you back out of this one, Ranma."

"Uh…back out of what?" Kasumi pinched his arm rather hard. "OW! What did I say?"

She sat up, straddling him, with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised.

"There is no plausible deniability here, Ranma. You called me your girlfriend and I'm not going to settle for anything less now." She pulled herself close to him, noses touching. "I get dates and special treatment reserved for girlfriends, not to mention that you need to remember that today will now be our official anniversary. Got it?"

"Got it." Ranma was feeling terribly overwhelmed. The bright smile she flashed him was worth all the discomfort.

"There's more to it, but I'll come up with special training methods to help you out."

To prove her point, she began kissing him again and proceeded to touch him in spots that she'd never touched before. Ranma swallowed hard and groaned in pleasure. If this was what he had to look forward to, then maybe this boyfriend stuff wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Sir Timothy Pearson, retired Brigadier General of Her Majesty's military, was what one would call a wealthy eccentric. Born in Sheffield to a handsome family of the Peerage, he grew up at the knee of his squib grandfather listening to tales of high adventure worthy of Rudyard Kippling. He considered himself a true throwback, and spent the majority of his life trying to recapture the golden spirit of discovery that Britannia had lost over a century ago.

He refused to fall into the more mundane circles of the English nobility, going so far as to move himself to India in order to escape the general stupidity he'd come to associate with the upper class. He married a local girl, Dipani, and had three daughters and a son – all of whom had families of their own now. He loved them dearly and celebrated the grandchildren they had given him. Each child was magnificent, from the eldest grandson, Devavarman, to his middle daughter's twins Padma and Parvati, to little Aiden – each were princes and princesses that he lavished with his love and attention.

Every summer he'd taken to gathering the family together from the four corners of the globe and, while the women shopped aimlessly, the male children lost themselves in a new manly adventure that built character. They'd hunted lions, and tigers, and bears. They'd searched for sunken treasure and fought small wars in countries that changed names daily. They explored the Amazon and delved the Congo. They'd joined curse breakers in Egypt, dined with vampire lords in Eastern Europe, driven cattle in Wyoming, and run with the bulls in Spain.

At seventy years old he was, for a wizard at least, in the prime of his life.

This summer brought the sons, and surprisingly two of the daughters, of the extended Pearson family to the Himalayas. Their stated goal: uncover the lost magical city of Teku Benga. Sir Timothy had spent over twenty years tracking down information on the ancient city, and uncovered a literary map to the fabled metropolis late last year. By and large, the quest was purely empirical. Pearson had no real expectation to find anything of great worth beyond a few ruins…if that. It was one of the safer adventures, geared for the younger children. Young Padma, who had just turned nine, had begged and pleaded to be included in the hunt. She, and her older cousin Miriam, made family history by becoming the first females inducted into the Boys Club. And contrary to initial opinions, they had done a remarkable job in showing up their cousins and brothers throughout the entire excursion. Padma had even deciphered the last clues, making it possible to find the mountain that housed Teku Benga – the mountain that they were now climbing.

Sir Timothy couldn't have been more proud if he had managed the feat himself.

So it was that nine men, of various ages, and two young women found themselves scaling the almost sheer, northern face of what was now called Mount Humadri. Matthew Arcand, Sir Timothy's youngest son-in-law, was at the head of the human train, securing the lines and picking their path. The young French wizard was a shrewd businessman, in and out of the magical world. He was terribly intelligent…just like his wife Lakshmi, but loved adventure just as much as Sir Timothy. He had taken the Pearson wealth and tripled its value in less than five years, securing the inheritances of Sir Timothy's progeny for the next four generations. Like all of his daughters' husbands, the Brigadier General loved him as if he were his own.

Sir Timothy was next in line and immediately following him, between him and Brahmasaras Patil, Padma's father, was the young future Ravenclaw herself. It was fitting that the child be one of the first to the top considering her contribution to the quest. Sir Timothy watched Matthew as he carefully made the last push, scrambling over the lip to the summit. The sound of a hammer being employed to secure and anchor the guideline, echoed in the cold, crisp mountain air. Sir Timothy waited until he felt Matthew tug the line before making his own push. It took no real effort for him to gain the summit, in spite of his tired muscles. He grinned at Matthew as he took in the crumbling ruins around them.

They had done it!

Both seized the rope, further securing it. Sir Timothy couldn't wait to see the look on Padma's face when she topped the rise. Neither man was disappointed as the young woman squealed triumphantly at the sight of the broken buildings. Her enthusiastic celebrations gave the rest of the group the needed energy to finish their climb. As the last climber, Sir Timothy's son Scott, appeared over the ledge, the group began to whoop and dance in their triumph. Donat, Matthew's eldest, dug out his camera and captured the moment for prosperity. Soon after, Miriam was directing the boys and men in setting up their camp. She caught Sir Timothy rubbing his stiff shoulders and grinned.

"Are you thankful that Aunt Sujata insisted on packing the carpets, Grandpa?"

"Get on with your duties, scamp." He gave the seventeen year old a firm swat for her cheek, and winked as he directed his attention to Padma's father. "Brahms! The lads are hungry."

"Hey!" Padma yelled indignantly.

"Fine, the Lads and Lasses then!" He wrinkled his nose at his granddaughter, who stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm starting to regret bringing such disrespectful women on this trip." He grumbled causing Padma's father to snort and shake his head.

"I think we are going to be stuck with them from here on in, Sir Tim." He playfully slapped his daughter on the back of the head with her thick black braid.

"Regret all you want Grandpa." Padma grinned smugly. "But you and I both know that it was a woman that made the difference in the end."

"Oh, sweet Merlin! Preserve us from the feminists!" Sinjon cried out in despair.

Matthew's second son was six and a half years older than Padma and had fully mastered the Talent of teenaged sarcasm. His biting wit was legendary among the students and teachers of Beaubaxtons. Sadly, he had yet to learn that Padma was not someone to cross lightly. Her brand new wand, bought earlier in the summer for just this trip, was free in a blink and Sinjon's pants were suddenly two sizes too small. The poor boy never had a chance against one of England's finest future minds.

It was amidst the laughter brought on by the spectacle of a squealing fifteen-year-old smart ass that the first tremors were felt. It was subtle, barely enough to register in Sir Timothy's senses. The second tremor was much more substantial and the retired general was barking orders to his family immediately. A third and fourth aftershock tore through the region with greater intensity, as the family huddled in one of the magical tents. Their camp was set up far enough away from the ruins that the threat of debris was negligible, but Sir Timothy still did his best to shield Miriam's trembling body with his own.

"Sound off! Who's not dead?" He called out. Names were called out in order of age, and everyone was accounted for save for Devarvarman. Panic began to settle in the hearts of the younger explorers, but it was quickly overridden by Sir Timothy's commanding, no-nonsense voice.

"Donat. You are in charge of the camp. Prepare a bed and medical supplies. Padma. You and Samuel are to help him by making lunch and getting a carpet ready in case we need to move quickly. Everyone else, pair off and begin the search."

He pinned his eldest granddaughter with a fierce stare. She was a healer in training at the Bastion Centre, the most prestigious magical university in North America. Her uncle Hradini, Devarvarman's father, was a staff Healer at Calcutta's premier wizarding hospital, so between the two, they had the medical end of things covered.

"Miriam. I want you on a broom with a first aid kit. If anyone finds Dev, send up sparks. Do not, under any circumstance, move him if he is injured."

The group broke apart immediately and began to attend to their duties. Sir Timothy looked at the eclectic group as he and his son left the tent. They were a good group, and there was little that they couldn't accomplish together.

It took twenty minutes of careful searching to find Dev and another fifteen to get through the wall of fallen stones to get to him. Much to the relief of his relatives, he wasn't injured beyond a shallow cut to his scalp. Sir Timothy and Hradini lit into Dev with a passion, and the young man's uncles and cousins made it a point to rib him the entire way back to the tents. They had barely sat down to lunch in the center of camp when the explosion happened.

Sir Timothy and his sons had seen a great deal in their collective lives. Be it magical or muggle, there was very little that they had not experienced. The bright, icy blue, lance of power that shot from somewhere near the center of the ruins was something very new to them though. Wands and guns were drawn and a palpable sense of tension hung in the air between the family and the ruins.

"Pack everything quickly. Scott lay out the carpets and get the kids in the air."

The orders were enacted quickly and efficiently, and within fifteen minutes the camp was put away. Five minutes later everyone but Sir Timothy, Matthew, and Brahmasaras were circling the summit of Mount Humadri on their flying carpets.

"There!" Matthew's wand was up at Brahm's exclamation.

The Frenchman was a world-class dueler and as he had on the mountain, he took point. Sir Timothy leveled his handgun at the dusty couple and took aim at the dark-haired fellow. In response, the pigtailed man pushed his companion behind him and settled into a defensive stance. He held no weapon, but the massive cloud of electric blue light that sprang up around him made it clear that he didn't really need one.

"Circe! Can you feel the power coming off of him? It's monstrous!" Matthew hissed. Brahmasaras nodded grimly and shifted his grip on his wand cautiously. Sir Timothy cocked his weapon and watched the pair carefully. The figure behind the man pointed briefly to the sky, causing the Brigadier to tense in anticipation. To his surprise, the man's stance eased and his tremendous aura disappeared. The couple raised their hands in surrender and Sir Timothy urged his sons-in-law to lower their wands.

"We mean you no harm! May we approach?" The second figure's voice was melodious alto. Even from this distance, he could see the soft feminine curves of her body and knew that she was someone of great beauty. Her English was good – definitely American dialect, spoken with a bit of an Asian accent.

"Lay down any weapons you might have and make no sudden moves." Sir Timothy wasn't about to take any chances with his family.

To his surprise and amusement, the man dropped to the ground face down and lay there until the woman kicked him soundly. Brahm and Matthew chuckled as the woman lit into her companion. Seeing that the tension had eased considerably, the man rolled to his feet and, much to the distress and embarrassment of his companion, scooped her over one shoulder. Matthew and Brahm were openly laughing now as the dark haired fellow made his way closer, and Sir Timothy eased the hammer down on his weapon. The weapon wasn't holstered though.

"Ranma! Put me down this instant!"

Sir Timothy noted idly that the young woman's beautiful voice certainly matched her physical features. She was Japanese by the look, as was her companion, and their gear marked them as professionals. He didn't recognize the crest on the shoulder of the young man's jacket, but the symbol was definitely militaristic. A hand brandishing a sword wasn't exactly a peaceful icon.

He catalogued that they weren't wearing side arms, but the young man had a small boot knife. Beyond that, they looked like any other young adventurous couple set to explore the roof of the world. Sir Timothy noted that they were caked in dirt and grime, and the young woman's poor, plaited brown hair was covered in stone chips and tiny…jewels?

The young man, Ranma, stopped about six feet away and set his companion on her feet gently. The strength he displayed in doing so was unnatural, which made Sir Timothy glad that he hadn't put his gun away. The young woman smoothed and adjusted her clothes as best she could, before slugging Ranma in the arm. He winced, but didn't stop grinning like a love struck fool as they both bowed at the waist to the trio. Matthew returned the bow politely.

"Good day to you gentlemen. I apologize if we startled you." The young woman smiled sweetly. "I am Kasumi Tendo and this is my boyfriend, Ranma Saotome."

If there was one thing Sir Timothy knew, it was love. He had been blessed with it his entire life, and he could tell that these two were deeply in love.

"It's a pleasure Ms. Tendo. I'm Sir Timothy Pearson, and these are my daughters' husbands. Matthew Arcand and Brahmasaras Patil." Ranma shook hands with both men warmly, and Sir Timothy finally felt comfortable enough to put his weapon away. "What brings you to these parts?"

"A colleague of an old friend of ours went missing in the area a long time ago, and we were on an expedition to find out what may have happened to him." It was a straightforward answer, but it didn't really explain their gear.

"Are you with a private firm, or on your own?" Matthew asked, pointing to the insignia on Ranma's shoulder.

"We're consultants for the American BPRD and the Rhine Research Center." Kasumi's smile didn't falter.

"Never heard of them." Matthew admitted.

"Not many people have." Ranma acknowledged.

"We're…uhm…" Kasumi stumbled.

"We're Paranormal Troubleshooters." Ranma cut in bluntly. At the blank looks on the men's faces he grinned. "Monster hunters. When something goes bump in the night, we're the guys that bump back."

"Ahhh!" Padma's father nodded sagely. The fact that none of the men looked disturbed or surprised by his admission set Ranma back on his heels. He looked at Kasumi in obvious shock.

"Whoa! That's a first." He laughed.

"Why is that?" Sir Timothy asked.

"Most people usually look at me like I'm crazy when I drop that bomb on them." He shrugged. "No one's ever really just accepted it at face value before."

"Why wouldn't we?" Matthew asked. "We're wizards. Monster hunters aren't that uncommon to us."

"Oh. Wizards? That explains the flying carpets." Ranma grinned at Kasumi. "So, you must know all about ancient Chinese curses and stuff, eh?"

"Well, no…not really." Brahm tapped his wand against his chin, and Ranma seemed to deflate. "I know a few people that have done research into ancient curses though. Why do you ask?"

"Got any cold water handy?" Ranma asked eagerly.

Brahm shrugged and transfigured a rock into a cup and filled it with water from the tip of his wand. Ranma wasted no time in upending the cup over his head. The metamorphosis was instantaneous causing all three men to raise an eyebrow as a busty little red head suddenly replaced the young man.

Matthew whistled and Sir Timothy shook his head sadly.

"Wow! That's…that's something else." Brahm grimaced. "Old girlfriend?"

Ranma laughed and shook his head.

"Cursed spring." Ranma sighed. "My old man had a thing for exotic training grounds."

"Training grounds?" Sir Timothy asked.

"Ranma is the heir to his family's Martial Art." Kasumi ran her hand through Ranma's wet bangs, turning the dust on her hands to mud. She frowned apologetically at her boyfriend turned girl and wiped her hand on her pant leg.

"What style do you practice?"

"It's an eclectic style that draws on a number of disciplines." Kasumi answered quickly. The sudden gleam in Ranma's eye flattened and the busty red head folded her arms across her chest in a pout. "Sorry Darling, but we best not tie up these people all afternoon. We have to find Abe and HB before we lose our light."

"Friends?" Matthew asked. Kasumi nodded.

"We were separated…" Kasumi trailed off as she took her first good look around the area. "Ranma?"

The distress in her voice caused the petite red head to tense, like a viper ready to strike.

"Ranma, this isn't right!" At the questioning look she got, the taller woman pointed to the ruins around them. "They're all different! Look there! The Temple of Baphomet was on the other end of the city, and the Temple of Zeus wasn't as whole as it is there!"

Sir Timothy and the others followed her gaze carefully, but it was Ranma's studious frown that sealed Kasumi's assessment.

"Kuso!" The little aquatranzexual looked at Sir Timothy and began scratching the back of her neck nervously. "Okay…first order of business: establish the date."

"July 2nd, 1989." Sir Timothy answered helpfully. Ranma winced visibly.

"Crap."

"What?" Brahm asked. He was unnerved at how pale Kasumi had become. Ranma reacted instinctively as Kasumi's eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted. Matthew was already waving down the flying carpets as the petite red head eased her girlfriend to the rocky ground.

"We've lost about three years and four months." Ranma's voice was subdued, but not overly surprised. She looked up at Sir Timothy with a frown. "We arrived here in March 1992 and spent about three days exploring the ruins. On the third day, we met up with this creepy old man who invited us to dinner, and three hours later we're meeting up with you."

She sighed and pulled a black bandana from inside her coat, allowing Brahm to soak it with cool water before placing it on Kasumi's dusty forehead.

"You don't sound too surprised." Sir Timothy pointed out.

"Naw, this kind of crap happens to me all the time." Ranma shrugged and grinned. "I'm Fate's whipping boy. I chalk it up to my old man screwing with my karma in some twisted way so that I became his scapegoat. It's the only way he gets away with all the garbage he pulls, while I end up holding the bag."

Sir Timothy looked at Matthew and Padma's father expectantly, silently asking them for their input. Both nodded their acceptance.

"In light of what you've told us, Mr. Saotome…"

"Ranma. Please, it's just Ranma."

"Ranma then." Sir Timothy nodded. "In light of the information you've given us, and the warning, we're in your debt."

Ranma started to protest, but the head of the Pearson family simply held up his hand to quiet her.

"We would have gone exploring the ruins had it not been for you, and based on your experience who can say when we would have exited? Two, ten, a hundred years in the future…maybe even the past?" He smiled warmly at the young man-turned-woman. "Such a service is not to be taken lightly. We owe you a debt of gratitude at the very least."

"We'll settle for a ride back to civilization." Ranma countered.

"Nonsense! That won't do at all!" The Brigadier crowed. "As you and your lovely companion have become stranded in the past, you will find yourself in something of a bind. My family and I will do what we can to make the transition easier. At the very least, we'll have you stay with us until you can make contact with your employers. I'll have Hradini take a peek at that curse of yours too. If he can't fix it, then we'll find someone who can."

"That's not…" Ranma sighed as Sir Timothy frowned.

"You might as well accept it with grace, Ranma." Matthew grinned impishly. "He's never going to back down."

The young martial artist smiled tiredly and nodded.

"Fine. We accept." Ranma threaded her fingers with Kasumi's and sighed again. Sir Timothy nodded and clapped the red head on the shoulder before turning back to the rest of his family.

"Sir Timothy?" Ranma called after him.

"Yes?"

"Thanks." Ranma smiled and held out her free hand. The older man accepted it gracefully and grinned at her strong grip.

"You're quite welcome."

The descent from the mountain was much easier than the climb up thanks to the flying carpets, and the return trip to Calcutta was eventful and filled with excitement thanks to Ranma and Kasumi's presence. The Pearson family might not have uncovered a lost civilization, or discovered the riches of Teku Benga, but they did find something of infinite worth that summer: friends.


	3. Peripetia 00

Peripeteia

A Ranma ½ Epic by Jeffrey Vasquez

Prologue

Author's Note:

This is dedicated to Gregg Sharp and all the other writers who've inspired me over the years. Thanks guys (and Gals), for bringing a little more light and laughter into my life!

**************

"The Universe had an unwritten law concerning Ranma Saotome that was similar in nature to the one it had concerning a certain blonde Galaxy Police detective. Although the wording of that law was quite long and tedious, what it boiled down to was 'The given odds for any event happening are no longer applicable when said individual is involved'."

-Private Bet #10, 3G – By Shade

The reason for this law was no accident. The design was intricately woven, thanks mostly to Genma Saotome who, in a drunken stupor (of course), had baptized his son a member of the cult of the most holy Murphy at the age of six and a half. Genma's reasons aren't clear, but it had something to do with the ultimate opportunity for growth in the Martial Arts and the fact that Ranma had seriously needed a bath at the time.

Now then, we all know how this law works…so, there is absolutely no reason to draw Murphy-sama's attention to us now is there?

No. We didn't think so.

**************

In a dark pub, in one of the seedier parts of Tokyo, a meeting was taking place. While not nefarious, in the truest sense of the word, this assembly was by no means innocent. The trio of villains was focused on a pair of rings sitting benignly in a lacquered box made from the wood of an ancient Ash tree. Myth and rumor whispered that the wood was cut from a branch of the World Tree itself, not that two of the men at the table would have understood the implications of that little detail. The third man did, and that was why he had always handled the box with great care and reverence.

Happosai had found the box and the rings in the care of a rather attractive Hindu sorceress, while traveling in the Himalayas at the turn of the century. The young, divinely…endowed, Tantric sorceress had been living in a little town near Phuntsholing, a modest sized city that sat near the Bhutan/Indian boarder.

Sureshtra had been one of the brightest points in Happi's life, and in moments of extreme drunken stupor, he would admit that she had been one of his dearest loves. She had taught him a great deal, and likewise Happosai had taken her as a disciple for a time. The time they had shared was literally magical, and their tour of the world's Tantric shrines was legendary. When they parted, she had given him the rings as a sign of her love. The symbolism had touched Happi greatly, and the temptation to bind himself with Sureshtra had been great indeed. But, in the end, both knew that they had no desire to be tied down to one person for the rest of their lives by the magic of the rings. In fact, Happi had long ago discovered that he was just too much man to tie himself down to any one woman – which made the rings pretty much useless for him.

The rings themselves were made from an unknown metal and purported to have been the wedding bands of Freya, the Norse goddess of Love, and the mysterious god Od. When Od disappeared Freya, in her grief, threw the rings away. Sureshtra had detailed the history of the artifacts down to her acquiring the magical bands. Happi had seen quite a lot in his day, and Sureshtra and a few others had taught him enough about the practice of and effects of magic that he could sense the "real deal" when it was placed in front of him. Whether or not the rings actually belonged to the Norse goddess of Love didn't really matter. He could tell that the things were powerful, and that was enough for him.

The last known wearers of the rings had been Tristan and Iseult, and Sureshtra had made a comment in passing that the artifacts had gained a type of sentience over the years since that tragic love affair. When he asked for clarification, the Tantric sorceress had shrugged and said that the rings were actively looking for a new set of owners in order to fulfill their calling. That comment had stayed with him for years afterward, and he had felt a great deal of…yearning…to find someone to share his life during that period of his travels. When he connected his strange longings with what Sureshtra had said in the mid-1930's, Happosai locked the box away in a trunk and tried to forget about them.

The trunk found its way to the Tendo dojo while Happi was hunting down the Nanban mirror and, to the ancient pervert's dismay, the pull of the rings had grown considerably more powerful. Every time he and Cologne were at the dojo together, the rings went to work on the old pervert, augmenting the long buried emotions he'd had for the Amazon. So, when Soun and Genma finally approached him for aid in their scheme, he jumped at the chance to be rid of the relics. The memory of his beloved Sureshtra would never fade and so parting with her gift wasn't very hard at all. He needed to preserve his freedom at all costs, and so it was better that the rings passed onto the next generation…as soon as humanly possible. Happi's reminiscence was rather rudely interrupted by one of the men sitting across from him.

"Are you sure that these will work, Master?"

Whap!

"Are you questioning my intelligence, Tendo?"

"Nnn…no…not at all, Master. It just seems too good to be true."

Pathetic. Why oh why did he ever take these idiots on as disciples? He must have been high or drunk…come to think of it he did remember something about an opium brothel before hooking up with these two….

"Come on, Tendo! The Master knows what he's doing! With our plan and these rings of his, nothing can go wrong!"

Smak!

"Don't get cocky, Saotome! These rings are potent magic to be sure, but there's plenty that can go wrong. If you want this to work, you have to follow the plan exactly. If you screw this up, there's no turning back."

"Why?"

BASH!

"Open your ears, Tendo! Once the rings are on their fingers, they won't come off until both are dead!"

"Dead?" Soun squeaked.

"Stupid! Of course dead! They bind the wearers to each other for life!" Happosai threw up his hands in despair and looked to the heavens. "Why do I bother?"

"Because this is a righteous cause, Master!" Genma blustered. "We're ensuring the future of your legacy!"

BOOM!

"It was a rhetorical question, moron." Happosai murmured under his breath.

"What?" Soun looked at the smoldering form of his best friend and began edging away from his master.

"Never mind." Happi groused. "Just remember the bargain. Their first boy is mine to train."

Soun and Genma blanched and swallowed before reluctantly nodding. Happi cackled and rubbed his hands together in a suitably maniacal fashion.

If Ranma wouldn't be his heir, then his son would be.

**************

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Wickedly insane, yet incredibly pompous laughter. Check.

"RANMAAAAA!"

Akane's desperate, if not overly annoyed scream. Check.

"AKANE!"

Ranma's angry, determined protest. Check.

Kasumi noted that his poor voice sounded just a little more strained and tired than usual though. And did she detect a bit of boredom lining it?

"Dang it Akane! Why can't you spread the wealth around a little?"

_Bless you Nabiki._ Just once, Kasumi wished some excitement would target her, just to have something to break the monotony.

"Aiya! Another too too stupid prince!"

_Is he stupid for kidnapping Akane instead of you, Shampoo? _Kasumi thought wryly.

"Just let him have her Ran-chan! It's not worth the headache!"

_Sometimes, Ukyo, I totally agree. Just let him have her Ranma and be done with it._

"Ranma! How could you let that…that…man, take my little Akane?"

_Shut up, Daddy._

"SAOTOME!"

Wince

_Not now, Ryouga. Why can't you just leave well enough alone?_

PUNT! SPLASH!

Heh. _Good shot Ranma._

"BWEEEE!"

CHOMP!

_Ouch! Poor Ranma. I hope Ryouga's had his shots._

"Ranma! It's your duty to save Akane to ensure the future of the schools!"

_What future?_ Kasumi groaned.

"Yes son! Here's a wedding band for the ceremony after you rescue my daughter."

_Oh Daddy! Please just give it a rest!_

Kasumi watched, as Ranma seemed to glow for a moment, before tossing the ring over his shoulder. It arced unerringly towards her and subsequently dropped into her waiting hands. She felt her body tingle for a brief instant and something in her world shifted. It wasn't a major shift, just a twinge really. But something had happened, that was for certain. Any thoughts about what had happened were tabled as the eldest Tendo was forced to quickly move out of the way of a bounding gymnast.

"OHOHOHOHOHO!"

Cringe. _Get some help girl! Please!_

"Wither Akane Tendo?"

Sigh. _Tweetle Dumber has entered the building._

"SWEETO!"

A cold shiver ran down Kasumi's arms and she reflexively covered herself, hoping it would be enough to hide from any unwanted attention.

"HEY! Watch the hands Jackass!"

Deep Sigh.

_Maybe it will all be over soon?_

"Oh, sweet Ukyo! Will you comfort an old man in his hour of need?"

Twitch. _Why me?_

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

_You go girl! Show him the error of his ways!_

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

_No. No. No. The over hand bash comes after the groin crusher! _Kasumi shook her head slightly and wondered when the girl would learn to use proper tactics.

"Well, Son-in-law?"

Kasumi looked up at Ranma and noted the stiff posture and bowed head. She could feel his exasperation from here.

_Just say no, Ranma. Don't let them ruin your life with their expectations too._

"Stupid Tomboy. I'm getting sick of this."

_Aren't we all?_ Kasumi thought sadly.

Kasumi sighed as Ranma stormed after the newest magical prince that had come for Akane. The mob of his friends danced around him happily as he slowly trudged out of the house on his quest to save Kasumi's sister. The slump of his shoulders wasn't imagined, and Soun Tendo's eldest daughter made it a point to prepare something extra special for Ranma's dinner tonight.

She watched until the group was finally out of sight, then turned her attention to cleaning up the disaster left in their wake. Kasumi meandered through the clutter half heartedly, sighing at the tiresome repetition of it all. If nothing else, she could truly understand where Ranma was coming from. She casually noted all the new patchwork that needed to be done, and made her way to the phone to call Mr. Sakaguchi.

Her life, just like Ranma's it seemed, had hit a plateau of monotony that promised nothing but stagnation. That thought alone left her feeling terribly depressed and empty inside. Something had to change soon…and not just for her. She picked up one of Kodachi's errant black roses and shook her head.

It was easy to see that Ranma's life was falling into the same pattern. Sooner or later he was going to grow tired of the status quo and either break or begin breaking someone else. She fingered the platinum wedding band Ranma had tossed away and sighed again.

Yes. Something desperately needed to change.

**************

"Man Ranchan! You're getting good at this!" Ukyo bounced happily next to her fiancé as he stomped back towards the dojo, with Akane draped over one shoulder. He grunted, but didn't make any other acknowledgement.

"Airen is too too powerful Warrior!" Shampoo shadowboxed on Ranma's other side, replaying the major highlights of the fight. Punches and little kicks began to build to a crescendo, with Ukyo mirroring her, until the pair mimicked his final move in unison.

"SENJU KAGE GAESHI!"

Unfortunately, the girls didn't cause a thousand shadow puppets to simultaneously attack their imaginary opponent. The effects of the Thousand Shadow Strike had been really cool though. Who would have guessed that Ranma would learn and adapt his opponent's own style to defeat the stupid challenger?

Well, everybody knew he would. The thing that was really mind blowing was the fact that he had done it in less than two hours time! A new record! Both Ukyo and Shampoo were trying to make shadow bunnies on the wall they were walking next to, while Ranma simply ignored them and forged ahead.

Cologne shook her head at the boy's talent, and the sheer insanity that seemed to revolve around him. Martial Arts Shadow Puppetry? The Matriarch of the Amazons simply shook her head. Some people just had no pride at all. She hopped along after Ranma shaking her head all the more.

The boy was a trouble magnet, and if she could somehow harness that…there was no telling how strong the Amazons would become. After all, adversity was the mother of strength.

**************

Kasumi watched as Ranma entered the front gate with Akane slung over his shoulder. She was cursing and screaming and hitting him over the head, and to Kasumi's amusement Ranma was ignoring it all. Fixing her mask firmly in place, she quickly arranged a number of pillows around the main table.

A pair of shadows shuffled in behind the returning hero and his entourage, with something large firmly in hand between them. As they passed in front of engawa, Kasumi raised her eyebrow and shook her head. A priest? When would they learn not to push so hard? Nabiki and Akane were going to have a conniption fit over this new ploy. Father had broken his promise and was sure to suffer for it. He'd be lucky if Nabiki settled for taking away his sake allowance.

Kasumi made a note to find some bamboo or better yet, encourage Akane to practice some recipes to give to Uncle Genma. If there were a way to ensure that Ranma wasn't around, that would be perfect. The last thing she wanted was to subject the young man to more suffering. Maybe she could convince her baby sister that it was better to learn to cook for her father-in-law, a man who obviously knew Ranma's tastes, before she tried cooking for her fiancé. She nodded her head. It wasn't perfect, but she had the seeds for retribution there.

She heard the group entering the house and quickly finished arranging things for her guests. She greeted Ranma as he entered the room, and it was immediately apparent by the look in his eyes that he had reached a breaking point. Ignorant of the situation, Akane continued to beat on his skull for the indignity of being carried like a sack of rice.

"Welcome home, Ranma. I've some snacks made up for you and your friends." Ranma snorted silently and frowned.

He nodded absently and set Akane on her feet, then promptly ignored her - much to her great displeasure. Kasumi entered the family room and swiftly set the first aid kit on the table. The others followed her, but Ranma pointedly disappeared upstairs, presumably to change his clothes. Kasumi listened to the tale of the adventure from Nabiki, who had made quite a large sum of money off the battle and rescue of her little sister. Halfway through the discussion, Ranma reappeared. His hair was wet and he wore a new set of clothes, but the cuts and bruises he'd gained during the conflict had yet to be treated. Kasumi patted the free pillow beside her and opened the first aid kit expectantly. As he dropped himself beside Kasumi, she couldn't help but frown worriedly as the group suddenly tried to rearrange themselves. An argument immediately erupted over who was going to sit next to Ranma.

The young man ignored everything around him as Kasumi dressed his wounds, and the worry she had felt for him became all the stronger because of his indifference. The time for change had definitely come. She wondered if anyone else could see what so very obvious. As the argument rolled its way outside, Kasumi sighed and shook her head.

Apparently not.

Maybe it was time for her to take matters into her own hands? At the very least she had a chance of giving the young man a more peaceful life. It was food for thought.

**************

"Quick Tendo! While they're distracted!"

Genma dropped the priest inside the dojo, and pulled the licenses and subsequent paper work from inside his gi. He drug the priest by the arm and hustled over to the table they'd set up, with Ranma's hanko in hand. Soun watched the casual destruction of his property with tears in his eyes, as he distractedly handed his buddy one of the three hanko he'd blindly collected from his daughters' rooms. He hadn't time to separate them yet, and the one in hand looked to be correct. He wasn't a hundred percent since everything was really blurry at the moment, and the sudden crashes and sounds of breaking furniture coming from the house sidetracked his verifying the owner of the personal stamp.

"This is highly irregular, Saotome-san." The priest protested.

"Do you really want to spend another six months in traction like last time, Oda-sensei?" Genma countered. The priest shivered and shook his head. "This is really for the best."

"I see your point."

Genma grinned and affixed the personal seals of the children in the correct places and signed his name as a witness. He shoved the paper and pen into his best friend's hands triumphantly. Soun's weeping increased at the thought of his baby girl getting married, and was barely able to sign his name on the document as the second witness.

Quickly and carefully, Genma retrieved the marriage certificate before Soun's waterworks could smudge the ink and handed it off to the priest, who affixed his own seal on the documents. He read the document carefully, to ensure that everything was in order. Upon seeing the names scribbled on the document, he opened his mouth to correct the mistake but Genma shoved a cup of sake into his hands and had him bless the union.

The four-way brawl in the front yard grew in intensity.

After a quick toast to the priest and an equally quick pay off, the holy man was physically carried to a waiting cab and paid a little extra to file the paperwork on his way back to his shrine. Oda-sensei shrugged and accepted the money. They must know what they were doing. It was sad though. That poor Akane was going to be really disappointed.

Once the fathers were certain the priest was on his way, and that no one was the wiser, the two men whooped for joy and went to celebrate the final victory over their wayward children.

"You know Tendo, I don't know why we didn't think of this sooner."

"I know old friend. I know." Soun Tendo looked up into the bright blue sky and smiled. "Certainly the Heavens are smiling down on us today."

"Too true!" Genma toasted his buddy and grinned. "Do you have Ranma's ring?"

"I certainly do!"

"All we have to do is get the rings on their fingers, and our retirement is ensured!"

If they only knew….

**************

Kasumi listened to the sounds of casual violence drifting upstairs from the yard and shook her head. She gathered the latest casualty of Ranma's wardrobe and held it up to the light streaming in from the window. She grimaced at the tattered burn marks and winced at the number of cuts and holes that she'd failed to notice in the fabric when she'd been tending to Ranma's wounds.

The afternoon sun shone through all of the rips and tears, casting numerous shapes on the front of Kasumi's apron and the floor behind her. She was more than a little alarmed to find more splotches of blood on the red shirt. She hadn't seen these wounds and Ranma hadn't mentioned them to her either. Just how badly had he been hurt? As she continued to inspect the cloth she noted over a hundred small gashes, most of which had been hidden due to the color of the silk. Kasumi's trained eyes picked the stains out quickly enough and she made a mental note to question the young man about it later as she gathered up his pants. She winced even more at the four larger tears along the inside pant legs and seams. At the sight of even more blood, Kasumi wondered how Ranma had made it home at all.

"Even heroes bleed." She whispered softly as she folded the clothing carefully. They were a lost cause and would need to be disposed of. She would have to lay aside some money to replace the set. He'd bled for her sister, so it was the least she could do for him.

An immense crash from downstairs caused her to jump and place a hand over her heart. Akane's voice was plain, followed closely by two more female voices – no doubt Shampoo and Ukyo.

Kasumi sighed again and adjusted the rags in her arms.

A bright flash of silver, followed closely by a small clatter, drew Kasumi's attention to a small object that had come to rest in the shadows beneath the window. At first she assumed that it was just a coin that Ranma had neglected to remove from his pocket, but when she knelt next to the object she recognized it for what it was: the ring the fathers had given Ranma before he left. As she picked it up, she marveled at its ornate beauty, and at its purpose.

_What would it be like?_ She wondered. _To be the wife of such a noble person? To be loved enough to be bled for? _Akane really had absolutely no idea of what she had.

Kasumi looked down at her palm and traced the beautiful etchings on the platinum band with her eyes. A soft glow seemed to emanate from the almost magical, flowing script etched within its surface, bathing Kasumi in a majestic white light for a moment. She was so caught up in the study of the ring, she didn't seem to notice.

The diaphanous squiggles reminded Kasumi of some Middle Eastern language. And was that…music? Her brow furrowed as she looked down at the strange artifact. The swirls and whirls reminded her of vines, but there was definitely a peculiarity about the pattern. Looking closer, she could see what looked like tiny block lettering…no, they were…runes? Yes, definitely runes. She'd seen their depiction in a fantasy manga once and recognized their shapes. How terribly curious, to see them circling the ring's outer band - this didn't seem like your normal wedding band.

No, not at all normal.

She chanced a quick glance at the door and grinned mischievously.

"What could it hurt?"

She slid the ring on her finger and admired the way the sunlight danced off of the etchings. She smiled wistfully at the idea of being a bride. It had long been her dream, but with her responsibilities here at home it was a dream that she had given up on a long time ago. With a sad frown, Kasumi tried to slide the band from her ring finger. It moved a little, but she couldn't get it over her knuckle! Her sad frown became a determined one and she tugged a little harder…to no avail.

A little twinge of panic settled in her stomach as she struggled to free the ring from her finger. Oh! Oh, Crap!

This wouldn't do at all!

**************

Ranma normally hated math. It went against the chaotic nature of his being. But sadly, he was starting to see its influence on his daily life. For example, this morning he had yet another, very predictable experience. The formula went something like this:

Desire to sleep + Abusive, more than slightly deranged parent = Cold, yet nowhere near refreshing bath in the pond + Noise from said bath + Cranky fiancée = Severe head trauma + (Slight concussion)(Unexpected nap) = Empty stomach while rescuing said cranky fiancée from another cheesy masochistic dweeb.

Of course there were slight variations in the formula, but they never strayed too far. Normally the daily formula followed one of three paths. Take your average lunch as an example:

(Akane prepares lunch)(Uyko & Shampoo prepare lunch) = Head Trauma, Stomach Pump, and Detention for ditching school.

Ryouga + Kuno + Mousse / (Shampoo + Akane + Ukyou)(Assorted Lunches) = Sore knuckles, Head Trauma, & Severe Need to have Stomach Pumped.

(Nabiki)(Ryouga + Kuno + Mousse)(Shampoo + Akane + Ukyo + Kodachi)(Assorted Lunches) = Sore knuckles, tired legs, empty wallet, Head Trauma, emptier wallet, a need for a bath, Stomach Pump, & of course more Head Trauma.

Normally the only constant throughout his day, was the sizable headache that he was forced to endure. Unfortunately, today the formula had strayed to a semi-frequent equation that he had come to hate more than anything. It went something like this:

Akane + Magical Martial Artist Prince…all of whom dress like pansies by the way / Ranma learning or inventing a new technique in order to save his stupid fiancée from said MMAP + Executing said technique with extreme prejudice on MMAP – Gratitude from stupid fiancée = Head Trauma and severe grumpiness.

Multiply all of that by his dad and old man Tendo planning an ambush for another wedding attempt and you had the sum of Ranma's life in a nutshell. He'd seen the Priest. He knew what was coming. It was like clock work.

Damn! He hated math!

He hated math, he hated dorky yahoos stealing away ungrateful fiancées, he hated school, and most of all he hated…_HATED_ being stuck in a predictable loop! The monotony had to end soon, other wise he was going to blow his stack!

He looked up at the scuffle about to explode and shook his head.

(Akane + Shampoo)(Ukyo + Kodachi)(Genma + Soun) = serious Head Trauma.

It was past time to come up with a new equation. Maybe he could sneak away…yeah, that would be nice. Sneak back to China, find a cure, and then roam the world! No fiancées, no idiot fathers, no honor agreements…

No honor….

He sighed dejectedly and stood. There was no such thing as freedom for him any more. So why dream? He silently padded up the stairs, shutting out the mammoth crash of someone being thrown through a wall.

Maybe if he took a nap, he would wake up and find that this was all a dream.

**************

Unbeknownst to anyone, the rings had chosen their newest owners carefully. Since arriving at the dojo, they had witnessed a number of potentially viable candidates, but it was their hope to avoid another tragedy like Tristan and Isulde. Judgments were made, compatibilities weighed, and desires were matched. It was the ultimate magical dating service, intent on making the best match possible with the available resources.

It was easy to influence the weak willed fools handling them, and once the ball was in motion, the rings only had to wait as the appropriate paperwork was filled out with the correct names, dated, approved, and subsequently filed. As the process moved forward, the change that Kasumi had wished for was becoming reality.

Discrepancies and certain things that were overlooked in the hasty completion of the forms were fixed and the requisite copies were made. Kasumi was noted as the heir of the dojo, and the dojo itself was listed as the dowry. The names on the deed of the property had been switched over and Kasumi was placed on the Saotome's registry.

A friend of Kasumi's from high school, which just happened to work as a clerk at the ward's Family Registration Section of the government offices in Nerima, smiled at the thought of such a deserving young woman getting married…and to a younger man no less! She put together a letter of congratulations and promptly passed it around the office to those that personally knew the eldest Tendo girl.

A collection was hastily taken up as a gift for the "Angel of Nerima" and news quickly spread. Bets that had been made on who the Saotome boy would finally end up with began to get settled, with crotchety old Mrs. Samura (having been the only one to bet on Kasumi) winning the whole stinking pot. The "Ladle Demon" of Nerima only smiled and planned that trip to Europe she'd been longing for. She promised herself to get the kids a proper souvenir for when she returned.

The news eventually made its way to Dr. Tofu via Mrs. Samura's gossipy neighbor. Having just returned from his sabbatical in South Africa, he had finally gathered enough strength and courage to propose. The news was predictably received. Crushed and devastated, the poor chiropractor called his mother and found himself engaged to a wonderful young woman, with hips perfect for child bearing, before he could even hang up the phone. Twenty minutes later said fiancée arrived with Ono's mother and future mother-in-law, and the official match-maker in tow. Tofu's bride-to-be had a plate of delicious cookies in hand and a bright smile that let some light into his broken heart and soothed his troubled spirit. She wasn't Kasumi, but at the same time she didn't need to be. Ayame-san was beautiful and witty, and she made Tofu laugh rather than dance. An hour later, after introductions were made and a perfectly wonderful discussion, the pair went out to dinner and news of their new relationship spread along with the news of Kasumi's marital status.

Word of the marriage finally reached the Cat Café, which of course led to an event that hadn't occurred in over two hundred years - Cologne falling off her staff. Mousse, who was in the kitchen making noodles with Shampoo's father, overheard the announcement and jumped for joy. Of course, he accidentally overturned a number of esoteric spices into the noodle dough he was making, which were then added to a special ramen recipe by a panicking Cologne. The meal was shipped off to the Tendo dojo, via Shampoo's father, with strict instructions to force feed the meal to Ranma if necessary.

Tatewaki Kuno and Ryouga, who both happened to be outside the Cat Café at the time of the wedding announcement, rushed to the Tendo dojo as fast as they were able. Tatewaki stopped by the estate to collect a special sword he'd purchased for the "final defeat of the vile demon" and unintentionally mentioned the dire news to his father in passing. Kucho Kuno, long used to the ranting of his son, was suitably surprised at the information. But, being the ever-generous man that he was, he grabbed up his favorite Tiki Charm and made his way to the Tendo dojo intent on gifting it to the newlyweds. Maybe he could give the no-good Saotome boy a buzz when he was distracted. Heaven knew that the child needed to look respectable now that he was married to such a special young woman!

Ms. Hinako heard a passing Ryouga grumbling about the "treacherous betrayer Ranma," and knew at an instant that her favorite delinquent was up to no good. Hikaru Gosunkugi, who had just come out of another of those abstruse mystical shops that cropped up from time to time, gripped his new spellbook tightly and vowed to free Akane Tendo from the unholy clutches of Ranma once and for all.

Nodoka Saotome was looking very troubled and hesitant carrying the Saotome honor blade and a manila folder as she made her way to the Tendo home. Upon seeing the mixed crowd of well-wishers and doom-bringers converging on the dojo her hesitation seemed to disappear beneath a mask of stone. Where moments before she had been uncertain of the course she had chosen to follow, the mob of people shouting her son's name firmed her decision. Years of neglect and the mountain of dishonor the man had heaped on the clan had taken its toll. Seppuku was no longer a viable threat to keep the man in line, and Nodoka wondered if the man had ever truly intended to honor the promise in the first place. Given what she now knew of Genma Saotome, it didn't seem very likely at all.

Genma had done such a criminal job of raising her son that it was something of a miracle Ranma had turned out to be as responsible as he was. In light of all of Genma's abuses, it was well past time for Nodoka's wayward husband to pay for his follies. She ignored the sounds of vicious battle already emanating from the dojo and politely asked one of the saner looking participants why everyone was out for Ranma's blood this time.

The nice young man imparted the happy news of her son's nuptials, which sent Nodoka into a frenzy of joyous celebration. The fact that she hadn't been invited to the wedding was offset by the fact that she was going to have grandbabies at last! She would scold Ranma a bit for his neglect, assuming he even knew of the event before hand, and then sit down with Kasumi to talk about family planning.

And thus, with the pieces in play, the rings proceeded to make their next set of preparations. It was time to introduce Kasumi to her new soul mate.

**************

Kasumi jumped as Ranma entered the room and hastily hid her hands behind her back. The guilty blush on her cheeks was easily read, but then again the boy was never one to notice surface details right off the bat. He merely looked at her and smiled a wan, tired grin before digging out his futon. Kasumi tugged at the ring on her finger and tracked his movements worriedly.

Why did she have to be so darn curious? She smiled weakly as he began to pull out his futon. She was an idiot! This ring was supposed to be for Akane, and here she had to go and daydream. As she watched Ranma unrolling the futon, an idle thought about showing him the ring passed through her mind. She bit her lip and tried to guess at his reaction, but couldn't seem to get her earlier idea of taking matters into her own hands out of her head.

Who was she kidding? She couldn't possibly take over the engagement. That would put even more pressure on him, and the last thing she wanted to do was throw another monkey wrench into their friendship. The best thing to do would be to come back later, well after getting the ring off and put it somewhere that she knew he would find it. Or maybe she could drop it where he was sure to see it.

That might be better.

It didn't solve the current problem, but it was one less thing she had to worry about in the long run. She watched as the young man tossed his pillow at the top of the roll, and then collapsed in an untidy heap on the bedding. She saw a number of new bruises decorating his arms and she couldn't help but frown.

"Is everything okay Ranma-kun?" The concern in her voice was genuine; she just wished that the words hadn't sounded so guilty. Goodness, but he looked run down!

Ranma looked up at her a moment and shrugged.

Yeah. Fine. Stuck. Trapped. Unloved. Pretty much par for course.

The response wasn't shocking. She had expected something along those lines. The thing that threw her for a loop was the fact that Ranma's lips hadn't moved at all. Kasumi blinked at the young man in awe as he simply nodded and viciously punched his pillow.

She shook her head, and touched her fingertips to her temple. Maybe she needed a nap too? If she was starting to hear things, then she was definitely working herself too hard. Kasumi turned away from Ranma with a nod, and started to leave...only to pull up short as Ranma's voice echoed in her mind.

Stuck in a rut and the Tomboy could care less. No one really cares. Life's just peachy!

What do you do when you realize that the impossible has just become reality? Kasumi had read more than enough manga to make the logical, if not completely surreal, connection; she was somehow hearing Ranma's thoughts.

Hate this Damn life! Wish we'd never come here! Need an escape!

Just because her mind had labeled the phenomenon, didn't mean that she readily accepted or understood what she was experiencing. The whole event was terribly fantastic, more so than anything she'd experienced to date. Still, despite the strangeness of the whole event, one thing rang through loud and clear: Ranma was hurting. The sheer desperation that lay beneath the surface of Ranma's thoughts touched a familiar chord in Kasumi's heart, echoing something that she had felt was unique to her.

How many times had she thought these exact same things herself?

Kasumi's brow furrowed and felt terribly uncomfortable. Something had happened to her, and it was allowing her to invade Ranma's privacy. The whole idea was betrayal of his trust, which was something she prized. She knew that she would feel horribly violated if someone eavesdropped on her private thoughts, but she couldn't think of what to do to stop.

How did one stop something like this?

And in light of poor Ranma's pain, could she afford to? She could see the ghosts of so many emotional wounds in her mind's eye; not to mention the veritable mountain of obligation that the young man carried. He hid the pain artfully from the rest of the world, but with his mask pulled away, she could see them plainly.

What to do?

Kasumi's still here. Wonder what's wrong.

She was startled when a sudden warmth filled her, not from within, but from without. It was like her body had a chill…only in reverse. Kasumi absentmindedly placed her hands over her heart, with the left hand covering the right. With the ring placed directly over her heart the feeling became even more intense. It was like someone had wrapped her in a protective blanket…or more accurately wrapped their strong arms around her.

"You okay Kasumi?" Ranma propped himself up on his elbow and regarded Kasumi with an intense curiosity.

Why couldn't it have been you? Why'd I have to get stuck with the sweet but violent maniac?

An intense longing penetrated the blanket of warmth, and Kasumi felt her guilt grow. She was the one that called Akane a violent maniac. She couldn't discount the truth of the statement either. But hearing Ranma adopt it made her wish she'd been more supportive and understanding of the young man's needs.

So beautiful. Wonder what her hair would feel like?

An image of Ranma's hands running through Kasumi's hair nearly overwhelmed her. She could feel his fingers gently running across her scalp, and the press of his body against hers. She could feel him leaning in to kiss her neck, and she closed her eyes in anticipation, shivering…yearning

A little groan escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Her heart thundered in her chest, so much so that she knew that Ranma must have heard it from where he lay. Her breath came in short gasps as Ranma's imagination started to run wild, leaving her feeling weak in the knees and flushed. And then…the entire experience cut off abruptly and was replaced by a vicious attack of self-loathing.

Stupid! Idiot! That's Kasumi! Pervertedjerkyou'rejustasbadasAkanesays! Get your mind out of the gutter Saotome! Kasumi's a lady. She'd slap you silly if she knew. Stop acting like Kuno!

Bitterness and restraint replaced the surprisingly ardent vision, leaving Kasumi reeling for a moment as she tried to switch gears and regain some sense of equilibrium. She didn't know whether to feel flattered, offended, or sorry for the poor boy. He was more repressed than she was. And that was saying a lot. She floundered for sometime, trying to catch her breath and hoping that her flushed face wasn't as bright as it felt.

"Kasumi?" The blanket of warmth returned tenfold, wrapping her in its security again. An underlying sense of guilt and worry tagged along rigidly, as Ranma's eyes searched her face with open concern.

Looks tired. I should help more. Damn louse! Turnin' out like Pops. Gotta bring her smile back! Make her laugh.

"I'm fine Ranma-kun." She smiled, mollifying his nervousness. She took his hand in hers; absently pressing the ring she'd been trying to remove against his palm. He looked down at the ring blankly.

What's this? The ring? Thought I got rid of it.

"You did, but I caught it when you threw it away." Kasumi answered the thought without thinking and quickly scrambled to cover her mistake. "It looks beautiful, doesn't it?"

She held up her hand to show off her finger. Ranma looked at it for a bit and nodded.

"Yeah. Kinda weird, but it's…you know…what you said." He looked down at the floor and sighed.

She could feel the secret yearning in his heart…a desperate need to find an outlet for the hidden emotion that was stirring in his soul. Kasumi was amazed at the seemingly bottomless well of love that lay largely untapped in the boy…no the man; all he needed was someone to offer it to. She idly wondered who he thought would be worthy of that gift. Images began to flicker in her mind's eye, and an emotional response seemed to correspond to each picture.

Shampoo was first, and she felt a hungry sensation building in her. It was a purely sexual reaction that made her feel very unsettled. As Ukyo's face replaced the Amazon's that desire remained, but became something else. She didn't know how to describe the feeling, but knew that it felt very comforting and nostalgic. Akane's face twisted everything into knots, but the predominant emotions tied to her were anger, sorrow, and regret.

Most surprising of all, was the sudden calm associated with her face. Each emotion she felt left her feeling both warm and energized, not to mention a little self conscious and excited. The thought that Ranma found her attractive was thrilling, but the fact that he cared for her in such a pure and protective way made her feel precious. Kasumi's mind bathed in the security of Ranma's love and it wasn't until she realized what was happening that her eyes flashed open.

It was just a crush. Nothing more. It was just a young man's fantasy; like that Tojiro boy had on Mrs. Rumaru back in the fifth grade. The infatuation would die eventually. If she encouraged and nurtured their friendship, he would have something to fall back on and she wouldn't have to worry about hurting him when he married Akane.

"Looks good on you." He said, breaking the silence.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He waved her off. "You go ahead and keep it. I ain't gonna need it any time soon."

"I couldn't possibly! Kasumi protested. "It looks far too expensive."

"Keep it. All I'd do is pawn it off or something." Ranma rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Heaven knows that I need the cash to pay off my debt to Nabiki."

"Oh! Don't do that!" Kasumi suddenly felt something akin to panic settle in her heart, but as quickly as it came it left. In its wake a stroke of inspiration hit her. Sure it was childish and more than a little silly, but it reminded Kasumi of her childhood. She was also fairly sure that it was something that Ranma had never experienced either.

"Why not?" Ranma asked. Confusion and intense respect washed over her, and Kasumi felt extremely humbled that anyone thought so highly of her.

"If I keep this one and find something similar for you, then they can be friendship rings!" She said brightly.

"Friendship rings?" The buried desperation welled within Ranma and Kasumi knew she had chosen correctly. A wall of false bravado welled up within him and he frowned comically in an attempt to hide from his sudden anxiety. "Sounds kinda girly."

"No one's ever given you a token of their friendship before have they?" Ranma shook his head. "It's meant to be a symbol Ranma-kun. A sign that you and another person are going to be friends forever."

"Forever?" It was hard to hide the hope that threatened to ooze out of his flagging control.

"Forever." Kasumi nodded and absently cupped his cheek with her left hand. The ring seemed to glow brightly in the sunlight.

"I'd like that." Ranma smiled and placed his hand over hers. A fledgling seed of joy sprouted in his heart, filling Kasumi with a wave of satisfaction.

She couldn't help but smile at the happiness she felt. Without hesitation she held out her pinky to him and flashed him a powerful smile that left him blushing. He looped his finger around hers without faltering in the least.

"Friends forever?" She asked.

"Friends forever." He intoned.

Neither noticed the ring's glow increase beyond what the reflecting light from the afternoon sun could cause. All that they felt was delight and contentment in further securing something that meant a great deal to them.

Had it a mouth, the ring would have smiled in satisfaction. The next plan was already in motion.

**************

"How are you planning on getting the ring on the boy's finger, Saotome?" Soun's eyes were red and puffy from mourning the demise of his flower garden.

"I saw him go up to his room. I'll use the Umisen-ken to slip in and put the ring on while the boy's asleep." Genma grinned.

"And if he's not asleep?" Soun asked with some trepidation.

"Then I'll put him to sleep." Genma's grin widened.

**************

Kasumi reluctantly drifted downstairs after making sure that Ranma laid down for his nap. She could still feel him above her, and she noted with a wry grin that he was already dreaming. She was so distracted by the sensations and the fleeting imagery filtering down to her, that she barely registered the noise of a mob outside the home. Rather than tainting the happiness and security she was feeling, she barricaded herself in the kitchen to keep contact with the others to a minimum. Not that this helped in the least. As she passed a rather disheveled Nabiki in the hall on the way from the bath, she had been surprised that her sister was thinking very loudly.

Kasumi winced at the dark and angry thoughts her sister was having about the four young women fighting in the back yard. Most shocking of all was the wickedly beautiful plan about devising a way to send Akane and the others to a convent…in Iceland. The eldest Tendo daughter liked it, but there were just too many variables that were left to chance. Maybe she could give Nabiki some ideas later on.

It was a little over half way through a batch of cookies that Kasumi realized what had happened. She'd been reading Nabiki's thoughts, like she had Ranma's!

What was going on with her? Was she some sort of psychic girl now? Good Heavens! She hoped not. Reading people's thoughts wasn't something she considered to be fun or proper. Sure it had its uses, but with the people that frequented her home, she'd just as soon not know what went on in their minds. As that thought settled home, she had nearly bumped into Uncle Saotome. His mind had been full of visions of food…lots and lots of food. She'd caught a glimpse of sake and an immense sense of satisfaction. It was apparent that he'd done something he was pleased with. What that might have been she didn't know, but it was certainly not something that boded well for Ranma.

Her father, who had been trailing behind his friend, had been both better and worse, as he was thinking about mother, remembering their wedding day, and wondering what she would have thought about her babies being…brides? Kasumi had nearly lost herself to tears at that image. It hurt enough to think about it herself, let alone hear it coming from her father's mind. She shooed the pair from the kitchen, refusing them the bottle of sake they were seeking.

She set to work immediately on finishing her cookies and began preparing the sukiyaki in order to drown out the residual thoughts of her mother. As she worked, her mind began to wander and finally settled on a few wonderful images of Ranma walking with her on a beach, eating dinner by candlelight, and…well the last scenario caused her to blush heavily and smile quite a bit.

It was at the tail end of that thought that Ryouga wandered in. Kasumi shivered at the rage and bleakness in the poor boy's heart. She didn't understand why he was so angry – the emotions were just too raw and overwhelming to sort through with any success. She did catch flashes of a few things, here and there, just beneath the surface of his rage.

She felt that his guilt was well deserved over the betrayal of Akane's trust, but the blame directed towards Ranma was just plain ludicrous! The one thing that Kasumi couldn't understand though, was the hopelessness that the young man carried. True, he would never best Ranma, nor would he gain Akane's hand in marriage, but the cute girl Akari seemed to like him well enough. That had to count for something right?

Shampoo had been next to visit, and as unintentional as her brief stay had been after Ukyo had sent her skidding into the kitchen was, Kasumi caught quite a bit from the sultry Amazon. To say that Kasumi was surprised at what she saw in the young woman's mind was a bit of an understatement. Who would ever guess that the purple haired warrior was that good of an actress…or that she harbored a not so small attraction to…Sasuke?

Oh my… Maybe Ranma was right. Maybe the Amazon was more than a little off.

It had taken Kasumi quite some time to clear her head of that thought but by the time she had, Akane made herself known and was sporting a large bruise on her arm to boot. Her sister's mind was in turmoil and Kasumi was shocked at some of the language that she was spouting in her thoughts. It made her reflexively reach for a bar of soap by the sink.

But, as Akane brushed up against her in her haste to get a washcloth to wrap some ice in, nothing could have prepared the eldest of Soun Tendo's daughters for the intense hatred spilling from her baby sister. To her credit, it wasn't directed at Ranma as a person. Sure there was disappointment and frustration, but the hatred was reserved for the situation her life had fallen into. That hate, Kasumi noted with some distraction, reminded her of their mother's leukemia. It was voracious and grew even more potent as Akane retrieved the first aid kit from the cupboard next to the sink. The miasma clung to her like a cloak, worse than Ryouga's emotions had, all but overwhelming Kasumi as the girl passed her by on her way to the family room.

And beneath it all, hidden deep in the young woman's heart, was a spark of love for a wonderful young man. The weeds of darker emotions surrounded that little seed, and Kasumi could only watch in horror as the tiny ember flared pitifully and died, swallowed by the hatred and discontent that so fully consumed Akane's heart. Kasumi couldn't keep the tears at bay any longer. It was a pivotal moment to witness, made all the more poignant for the things she felt for Ranma herself. She wept silent tears and wondered what the future held for those she loved the most. The injustice of the situation made her angry, especially when Kasumi remembered the overpowering pride that drove her sister.

It was almost as strong as the miasma; Kasumi could feel the determination to make the suffering worthwhile and to overcome all opposition at all costs. Her sister's actions were no longer driven by love and affection, but by self-importance and self-validation. It was terribly sad that Ranma's feelings and desires were nowhere to be found in the young woman's heart any longer and, for the life of her, Kasumi could not understand Akane's feelings. She could not condone them either. A loving marriage was built on mutual trust and a desire to lose one's self in the life of the other.

As Akane left, so too did the strange power of the ring on Kasumi's finger, leaving her feeling very troubled and more than a little upset. She was alone with her thoughts again, and that left her feeling somewhat emptier than she had been. Yet it gave her more insight on what her course of action should be, for Ranma's sake and for her own.

Dinner preparations were completed in silence, mourning the death of a fledgling love that never had a chance to truly live. Kasumi stared at the plates and dishes without seeing them. All she could think about was that vast emptiness in Ranma's heart, and her desire to see it filled. How much more suffering and loss could he hope to endure? Why did her loved ones have to face such overwhelming opposition in finding peace and happiness? Kasumi didn't understand and, not for the first time in her life, that made her exceptionally frustrated. It wasn't right. None of this was right. But was what she wanted to do the right thing? Would it be a solution, or yet another misstep doomed to failure?

She pondered the questions as she set the table for dinner. Any thought of sending Akane to a convent was thoroughly squashed by the obvious suffering her sister was enduring. Something had to be done. Things had obviously reached critical mass, and the available options left much to be desired.

If she asked her father to switch the engagement to her, Akane would feel betrayed. The girl had too much invested not to see it through, and anything Kasumi did to relieve the strain for poor Ranma would only make things worse for the couple in the long run. There was no way to convince her father to pass the engagement onto the next generation, either. He was so intent on seeing the fruits of his dreams come true, and Kasumi knew he would be crushed if the marriage fell through. She hated the idea of a loveless marriage for the pair, but she couldn't stand the idea of losing her father again either. She placed the last bowl on the table with a heavy sigh. Who knew what the future had in store for her family? It was apparent that she wasn't going to be able to come up with a solution tonight, so she placed her faith in a brighter future. In the end, hope was all Kasumi had to offer them anyways.

She prayed that it would be enough.

*************

Genma slipped into the room silently, sneaking across the floorboards with nary a creak. It was a feat of agility that belied his bulk and demonstrated his mastery of stealth. He masked his presence as best he could, holding the ring tightly in his hand and praying to whatever gods he hadn't offended that Ranma wouldn't wake up.

Luck seemed to be with the fat fool as his son lay sprawled across the futon, with his hands open and his fingers relaxed. Genma would have giggled in devious glee, if he dared risk revealing himself.

He knelt down and gently positioned himself over his son's left hand. His hands and forehead grew sweaty as he inched the ring closer to the boy's finger. He could feel the ring's eager joy at finally achieving its purpose, and the magic in the artifact eagerly coaxed the man's pudgy fingers down to Ranma's unsuspecting hand.

A moment of indecision seized Ranma's father, but as he pulled back on his hand, the ring leapt from his grasp and slid onto the young man's ring finger. Genma squealed and scrambled back, causing Ranma to stir. In less than three steps the Saotome patriarch was out of the room and already moving down the stairs at a respectable clip.

One thing was for certain…

There was no turning back now.

*************

Nabiki wasn't one to get emotionally involved with the world around her. The death of her mother had sealed off the more vulnerable side of her spirit behind a cynical, uncaring mask. If she didn't care, she couldn't hurt. That was what she kept telling herself any way. It was a nice lie that she had almost begun to believe.

Somehow, between the time of Ranma's arrival and now, that seal had weakened though. She'd seen the young man sacrifice time and time again for her family, and that altruism was the hammer that had cracked the seal. The incident with Saffron had been the final blow, and upon learning the whole story Nabiki could no longer deny that she had feelings for the young martial artist.

What those feelings were, she really couldn't say. She just knew that Ranma was important to her. It pissed her off to no end that he was subjected to so much crap in his life, and the knowledge that she had been a major player in his manipulation and abuse shamed her. She'd tried to keep up pretenses, but every once in a while things would slip through. She sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position on her bed.

She supposed that there was no time like the present to turn over a new leaf, and she had been on her way to do just that when Little Miss Princess had been abducted again. She'd watched as Ranma returned from the battle tired and grumpy, and when Akane had woken from her little nap, she didn't even thank him!

Nabiki punched her pillow viciously at the injustice and rolled over onto the side. Some people just couldn't be grateful for what they had. After living so long without, Nabiki had become very appreciative of the finer things in life…friendship being chief among them. What Akane was doing to Ranma was enough to make Nabiki's blood boil.

She sighed and looked out the window of her bedroom forlornly. Regrets of past choices warred with dreams of the future, and for one single moment Nabiki Tendo tried to walk in Ranma Saotome's shoes.

"Dinner's ready!" Kasumi's voice echoed through the house.

Nabiki debated if she should even bother. She was more than a little upset at her little sister and the other fiancés – not only for dragging her into this afternoon's fiasco, but for their mistreatment of such a nice guy. She snorted at that thought. Who would have guessed that she, of all people, would be rooting for Ranma Saotome when there wasn't money involved? It was ludicrous, but she knew that just seeing the tired look on Ranma's face wouldn't sit well with her tonight. She didn't want to face the guilt that had been plaguing her lately, but it was getting harder and harder to escape it. With a final growl she heaved herself from her bed and started towards the door. Half way across the room she noted something off about her desk.

One of the drawers was slightly open.

In and of itself the oddity wouldn't have been all that out of place, had it not been for the fact that the drawer had a lock on it. Nabiki moved closer to the drawer and noted that the lock wasn't fastened. She fingered the lock for a moment, a frown growing on her face as her mind examined the combination. She removed the lock and opened the drawer, carefully examining the contents for signs of theft. She noted that the box holding the family's hanko had been disturbed. She wasted no time in pulling the small metal cashbox from the drawer and opening it.

The hanko were there, thank heaven! But wait! The order was wrong! Nabiki always made certain to have everyone arranged in reverse alphabetical order. A feeling of dread overwhelmed her as she absently rearranged the box. Since the arrival of people of such moral character as Genma and Happosai, Nabiki had insisted that everyone store their hanko in a safe place – especially Akane and Daddy. The last thing they needed was the Grandmaster using their father's seal to rob them of their home, or Akane's right to...

Oh no.

Nabiki froze mid-thought and her blood ran cold.

No, no, nononono! NO! They wouldn't dare!

"Damn you, Daddy!" She growled under her breath. "You promised!"

She quickly rearranged the hanko, then locked and returned the box to its resting place. She indulged a brief moment of panic as she looked out the window of her room before turning her attention back to the door of her room. She could hear a distant mob gathering in the streets, and a new sense of dread filled her soul. Those stupid, stupid old men had done something terrible. Nabiki could feel it in her bones. She could readily guess what they had done too; it was just easier to deny that level of stupidity in favor of hoping for a better outcome.

Again, Nabiki was a mistress of lying to herself when need be, but even she couldn't escape this truth. Her father and his friend had done something really bad and now it was coming to bite them in the butt.

There was nothing for it. She would have to adapt and overcome. It was her greatest strength, but she had a feeling that her poor sister wasn't going to get out of this one unscathed. The middle Tendo daughter locked the drawer and proceeded downstairs to face the music.

Everything was coming to a head. She could feel it in the air.

**************

Kasumi watched as Ranma sat unnaturally still at the dinner table, hardly eating or even putting up a fight against Genma's attempts to snatch food from his son. The haunted expression, combined with his lack of appetite and darting eyes caused the eldest Tendo daughter to worry. And she was happy to see that she wasn't the only one.

Akane watched her fiancé with open concern.

Maybe her earlier experience was misinterpreted? She could hope that was the case. It didn't change the fact that Ranma looked like he was facing a pride of lions or Akane's cooking. The young man jumped and shivered simultaneously looking at Kasumi with a very hurt expression, as if she had done something truly mean.

"Are you feeling okay?" Kasumi asked gently.

"…eh?" The pig-tailed boy looked up from the half empty bowl slowly, allowing Genma to polish off the rest of his son's food.

"What's the matter, Ranma-kun?" Kasumi moved around the table, passing all of the other guests that had come to celebrate Ranma's latest victory. When she knelt next to Ranma and checked his forehead for a temperature, four sets of female eyes tracked her every movement.

"I'm fine Kasumi."

He intercepted her hands and held them for a moment longer than was proper. She could feel a sudden explosion of chaotic thoughts and dread surge through her at his touch and she reflexively sent all the calming and peaceful thoughts toward him that she could. It seemed for a moment that it had worked, but soon the cacophony returned louder and more insistent. Four other females in the room noted this byplay and narrowed their eyes jealously. A fifth set of female eyes quirked an eyebrow in surprise at the gesture. Ranma paled and began to sweat even more.

"I hope there's nothing wrong with the food." Kasumi said worriedly.

She looked over at the bowls of noodles and sukiyaki, wondering if she had made a mistake. It had tasted fine to her. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the cold battle auras springing up from around the table. One by one, four sets of chopsticks snapped irritably.

"Naw." Ranma's voice squeaked. "Ahem! Uh, the food's great. I just got a lot on my mind is all."

A set of male eyes watched the unconscious drama playing out as well, but they were more concerned with Akane it seemed than with Kasumi. Nabiki experienced a moment of amused puzzlement at the scene unfolding before her. She shook her head tiredly and returned her attention back to dinner. There was no telling how much longer the peace would last, and she was intent on getting a full tummy before everything hit the fan.

Soun however, blinked in shock as he got a good look at Kasumi's hand. He nudged Genma in the ribs frantically, earning a grunt from his old friend and nothing more. The Tendo patriarch tried again, poking harder this time, but got the same results. It wasn't until Soun had ripped the bowl from his friend's sweaty hands that Genma took note of the odd scene playing out between his son and…Kasumi?

Genma blinked and looked at the pair, absentmindedly holding hands. His eyes grew wide at the shimmering glint of the silvery bands that adorned Kasumi and Ranma's ring fingers. He pondered the sight for a moment then shrugged and went back to devouring his food. After all, one Tendo girl was as good as the next – and Kasumi was always Genma's favorite. He was now guaranteed a delicious retirement. Soun, for his part, simply fainted dead away at the realization that the rings were not where they were supposed to be. He just hoped the magic of the rings didn't hurt Kasumi. Akane had at least been trained in the Art, which made the gamble a bit more palatable for the Tendo patriarch. She was a tough little girl who'd learned to roll with a punch.

Kasumi though….

The tense silence grew as the fiancées crept nearer to examine Kasumi's hand. Nabiki followed close behind in order to get a better look at the ornate band on Ranma's finger, and be on hand to drag Kasumi out of the line of fire should things get dicey. She needn't have bothered. The mob had arrived outside the front gate, drawing everyone's attention away from the jewelry in favor of the new distraction. Kasumi sighed and stood, intent on seeing what the commotion was about.

She was surprised when Ranma silently stood with her, and followed her as she went to answer the gate.

**************

Ranma twitched, never taking his eyes off Kasumi's back. He didn't understand what was going on. He could hear everybody speaking, but nobody's lips were moving! Maybe he really was going insane. It was the one explanation that made sense. He couldn't make out a lot from the confusing jumble of noise in his head, but what he could make out made him want to find a rock and hide under it forever!

Things seemed to quiet down considerably when Kasumi touched him. In fact the only thing he could hear at that point was Kasumi herself, which was fairly confusing to say the least. He could feel her concern in an almost physical way, and he wasn't going to complain about the sudden need to be close to her either – not when it made him feel this good inside. He beat a hasty retreat as she made her way out to the front gate, if for no other reason than to escape the building noise in his mind before his brain exploded.

He took a deep, calming breath as he felt everyone from the house moving to follow them. It was just like them to ruin a good thing. It was a conspiracy. It had to be. There was no other explanation for the methodical destruction of his happiness. Ranma paused and started fitting the odd (if not completely paranoid) pieces together. Ryouga was out to destroy his happiness, wasn't he? Akane seemed really chummy with the stupid porker too. And that wasn't even counting the fact that Ucchan had been hunting him for ten long years. Her very sudden change of heart had troubled him greatly at the time, but her sincerity had worn him down over time. Could she be that good of an actress? Then of course there were the Amazons. If they could make things hot enough, then Ranma was sure to break at some point and they would be there to pick up the pieces.

The thoughts continued to spiral into a conspiracy theorist's worst nightmare before Ranma finally snapped and turned an angry gaze on the group following him. He immediately cringed though, as four scary faces glared at him from the depths of their hellish battle auras. He started to back away from the angry girls, only to find that his hand was trapped. Panicking, he looked down to discover that he had somehow taken to holding Kasumi's hand again.

His hair stood on end.

He noticed the ring on her finger and smiled briefly at the thought of its symbolism. It wasn't until he caught a glimpse of the ring on his finger that things got really interesting. At the sight of the rings and the realization that they were on _those_ fingers, he froze in terror. Kasumi smiled and patted his arm reassuringly, but it didn't make the dread disappear. If anything, it made everything worse.

This was going to hurt. Bad.

Time seemed to stand still for Ranma as he squeezed his eyes shut and awaited the inevitable.

*************

Kasumi squeezed Ranma's hand and opened the gate, only to be greeted by an old friend from high school. Damaguro-san was smiling brightly, as were many in the mixed crowd standing behind him. Everyone else was glaring at the young man beside her hatefully.

"Congratulations, Kasumi-san!" The young official bowed deeply to her and thrust an envelop into her free hand. Confused and uncertain, Kasumi returned the bow and smiled. She released Ranma's hand in order to accept a rather large, gift wrapped, box.

"Thank you, Damaguro-san." Kasumi smiled gratefully and bowed again.

"Congratulations to you too, Saotome-san!"

"Eh…Er…thanks?" Ranma looked at the man nervously. "Why are ya congratulating me?"

"On your marriage to Kasumi-san of course!"

Ranma froze solid, his pigtail standing out rigid. Kasumi blinked and silence fell over the gathered crowd. A slight breeze blew, toppling Ranma and ruffling Kasumi's dress. She looked down at the envelope and then up at Damaguro-san questioningly. Another friend from high school poked her head around the young man's shoulder and grinned happily.

"Mimi-chan?" Kasumi whispered.

"When the marriage license came to the office this afternoon, we pushed it right through so that we could deliver it in person as soon as possible."

Ranma "eeped" and shut his eyes all the tighter, waiting for the killing to begin.

"Th…thank you." Kasumi looked down at Ranma, and then back at the people from the house.

Her father was still passed out and Uncle Genma was making short work of the unguarded food. Ranma's fiancées were alternately glaring at Ranma and looking at her calculatingly. Shampoo was silent, obviously trying to decide what course of action to follow – Kasumi shivered at the thought of suddenly becoming an obstacle. Ukyou was growling at Ranma, but was constantly casting murderous looks back to Ranma's gluttonous father. Kodachi, while not an official fiancée, made certain that she was not left out. She simply looked down her nose at Kasumi, fingering her ribbon dreamily. The look from the Kuno girl made Kasumi's stomach twist in fear.

But, of all the expressions directed at her and Ranma, none was worse than the look of angry betrayal on Akane's face. The tears were already building in the girl's eyes, and her lips trembled with emotion.

Ryouga, his hands inching their way towards Ranma's throat, had just re-entered the compound without proper invitation. Kuno quickly followed his lead and had a very nasty looking sword poised above Ranma's neck. The fact that it was glowing black and had little pink stars sparking off of its blade did little to comfort Kasumi's sudden disquiet. Akane and Ukyo flanked the pair, both with tears in their eyes. Shampoo continued sizing the eldest Tendo up and down critically, while Kodachi had busied herself with poisoning all of Kasumi's flowers.

Soun woke and watched with a bewildered expression as Nabiki calmly flanked Kasumi and leveled an icy glare at everyone threatening violence. Genma was licking his fingers and looking around at all the empty dishes in obvious disappointment.

It was a powder keg waiting to blow, and Kasumi was at ground zero.

*************

The heavy silence in the courtyard stretched into forever, and Ranma began to wonder if he might already be dead. He snorted mentally.

Yeah, right like he'd ever be that lucky!

The lack of extreme pain was a surprise, though. He was certain that the axe (or spatula, or mace, or suitably handy blunt object) would have fallen by now. He cracked his eyes and saw Kasumi's blush. She was simply looking down at the envelope and box in her hands, as if she couldn't quite comprehend what she was seeing.

"DAUGHTER!"

The package and marriage certificate were knocked from Kasumi's hands and subsequently landed into Nabiki's, who wasted no time in examining the contents of both while Ranma's mother smothered the eldest Tendo girl in a rib-cracking hug. Ranma watched as the middle Tendo's eye twitched. As she opened the box, the eye twitch became much more pronounced. Ranma's blood began to really run cold as Nabiki slowly and calmly left the courtyard, mumbling under her breath. He slowly returned his attention back to Kasumi and his mother, trying his best to ignore the growing animosity coming from the people menacing him.

Tears of joy poured down Nodoka's face as she blubbered on and on about welcoming the bewildered Kasumi to the family. Ranma's unwitting bride looked down at him helplessly as Nodoka continued to cry, and the young martial artist was about to intervene when other people began arriving: Cologne, Mousse, Shampoo's father, Ms. Hinako, Principal Kuno, Gosunkugi, and a few other people Ranma didn't recognize immediately. He swallowed nervously and began to pray. Hopefully, his death would be quick and relatively painless. That was all he could ask for at this point.

Nabiki returned in time to rescue her sister from her new mother-in-law, breaking the moment by snatching up her sister's hand. She whipped out a jeweler's eye loupe and began the careful appraisal of the ring. Everyone seemed to focus on Nabiki, waiting for the verdict to fall.

The middle Tendo girl whistled appreciatively as she examined the finely decorated band, more so when Cologne mentioned something about it being magical. Ranma, still a step behind everyone, lifted his eyes just in time to meet Kasumi's…and then it happened.

The rings began to glow.

Fear, worry, and concern washed over him as Kasumi looked at him. He could feel the confusion as well. They were emotions that he knew all too well, since he seemed to be feeling them too. The weirdest thing of all was that he could immediately tell that the powerful sensations he was feeling were not his. Apprehension about being the center of all this attention hammered him, and a deep sense of guilt filled his heart at the thought of the pain in Akane's eyes.

[Dinner's ruined. Akane's angry. Will Shampoo and Kodachi hurt me to get to him? What will poor Ukyou do now?] Kasumi's voice drifted through his head, and Ranma couldn't break eye contact with the beautiful young woman in his mother's arms.

_Not your fault. Over my dead body. And Ucchan's one tough cookie. She'll make it through this…assuming she's not in league with Ryouga to destroy my happiness…._

Kasumi blinked and gently touched her head wonder. The longer he looked at her, the deeper the connection seemed to get. Surface thoughts and feelings began to give way to something more, and Ranma felt himself being swallowed by Kasumi's deep brown eyes.

[You look scared.]

_Not scared for me._

[Poor Ranma. Wish I could spare you. You deserve more. You deserve love. Wish I could find love.]

_Ditto._

He shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong to invade someone's privacy like this! He tried to shut the connection down, but didn't know how. The thoughts and images and feelings just kept coming! He saw her loneliness, and that oh so familiar void seemed just as large as the pit in his own heart. The beauty of her spirit and the hunger for affection shocked him. Everyone loved Kasumi. Why should she feel so lonely?

[I'm lonely for the same reasons you are.]

The thought and all of the implications hit Ranma right between the eyes. He was carrying on a conversation with Kasumi in his mind! As if to punctuate the point, she giggled and Ranma felt warm and fuzzy all of the sudden. It was weird, in a wonderful sort of way.

Someone nearby whispered about a honeymoon and Kasumi's mind filled with images of a beach house and sunset walks. The young martial artist basked in the peaceful image. Ranma's mother mentioned something about grandchildren again, and Kasumi's mind filled with all manner of naughty images that made both newlyweds' faces blush like a pair of red tomatoes. The shocking images turned to angry disappointment as Akane began to growl.

[Leave him alone! Brat! Not his fault…why can't you appreciate such a wonderful person!]

To say that he was shocked that Kasumi's thoughts were defending him was an understatement. The unchecked admiration backing the thoughts pretty much shut out everything else around him.

She admired him?

What a brilliant thing.

**************

Akane didn't know how to react. Here was Ranma, apparently married to her big sister and wearing this goofy spaced out look on his stupid face. It reminded her of the time that Ranma had worn Happosai's stupid bandaid.

The pervert was blushing! Then of course there was that glowing ring…

Glowing RING!

Akane watched as Nabiki continued to examine the ring, hoping for a moment to catch her attention. If they could just get that ring off, then maybe everything would go back to normal! Wait! Kasumi's ring was glowing now!

**************

A single moment seemed to freeze for the pair, and the veil over their souls was thrown back. Ranma saw something that he had never thought another human being could experience…well, at least not at the depth that he had always felt it.

Despite that, he saw it here, in the last person in the entire world that he would have expected. Buried deep, hidden beneath layers of denial and barricaded behind the gates of self-sacrifice, Ranma saw the painful alienation of having been manipulated into being Mom to her sisters and caregiver to her father. He again felt the utter and absolute loneliness that ate at his own soul like a cancer mirrored in this magnificent woman's heart. The injustice of it all angered him.

He dared not blink, for fear of missing something important; and he was duly rewarded. For beneath the layers of fear and denial, and hidden from the prying eyes of self-loathing, Ranma found a well of love so vast and deep that he was swallowed whole.

**************

Okay. Ukyo was getting slightly upset. Not only was HER Ran-chan ignoring her, but he was starting to get goofy eyes for Kasumi. That just wasn't fair! How could he expect her to win him over when faced with that type of competition? Not only was the eldest Tendo daughter beautiful, but she was a goddess in the kitchen! When it came to okonomiyaki, Ukyo was tops. But when asked to make other dishes…the spatula-toting teenager didn't have a leg to stand on, and she knew it.

Ukyo felt a light tap on her shoulder, and irritably turned to face Akane. Her chief rival for Ranma's hand pointed down at the glowing ring, the sight of which caused Ukyo's eyes to narrow.

What was it with this guy and magical artifacts? If the Jackass weren't so damn special, she would have given up ages ago. She acknowledged Akane with a slight nod, and raised her hefty spatula clear over her head.

She hated doing this, but she told herself that it was for his own good. If the ring was influencing his judgment, then he would thank her for this later. If he wasn't being influenced by the ring, then the bastard deserved all the pain he got and then some.

She was tired of playing these games with him!

**************

Tension. It wasn't the best word to describe the feel of the situation in the yard, but it was a word. Once Nabiki had confirmed the validity of the marriage certificate for everyone involved, the strain in the compound seemed to peak. Akane ran into the house crying, and before anyone could follow all hell broke loose. Ranma tried calling out to her, but Cologne stuffed something in his mouth. Another strategic blow from the old crone forced him to swallow with a loud gulp. Seeing that things were going to hit the fan, Nabiki quickly drug Kasumi and Nodoka free from the kill zone.

Ukyou tried to corner Ranma next, but Ryouga beat her to the punch…literally. The young martial artist was so distracted by the lump of…whatever…in his throat that he couldn't mount a proper defense. He was knocked bodily into a retaining wall and bounced into the waiting strike of Kuno's blade. Kasumi screamed as Ranma barely managed to avoid the fatal blow. As it was he was still cut by the blade, enough to draw a long line of blood across his chest. The Blue Thunder of Furinkan would have done more had Ms. Hinako not stepped into the fray and sucked both Ryouga and Kuno dry. In a surprising display of charity, Principal Kuno helped the dazed Ranma to his feet. Ranma nodded his thanks as the principal placed some sort of charm around the young man's neck. But the peaceful gesture was rudely interrupted as the mad Hawaiian-wannabe attempted to shave Ranma's head. Stunned as he was, Ranma still had the sense of mind to punt the lunatic over the wall.

Happosai made his appearance then, tossing a gourd full of water towards the distracted Martial Artist. Ukyou took the opportunity to step in front of Ranma and take the splash for him. Waterlogged and definitely showing it, the okonomiyaki chef distracted the perverted grandmaster long enough for Shampoo to join in the fray. The two began to scuffle with the old letch, but once the fight was in play, the battle made its way unerringly towards Ranma. Nabiki watched as the young man was sucked into the conflict and carried with it.

She noted that her new brother-in-law took at least three powerful glancing blows to the head and temple from Happosai, Ukyou, and Shampoo before he finally put the wretched gnome down. The girls pounced on the lecherous old man before he could recover sufficiently, making short work of him. Shampoo kicked the fool into the air, high enough for Ukyou to whack the diminutive demon into the next ward. Their alliance rapidly deteriorated into aggravated bickering over which one had the right to nurse Ranma back to health. The resulting catfight added two or three more blows to Ranma's abused head before it rolled into another part of the yard.

Dazed and disoriented, Ranma staggered to the retaining wall and clutched his head. Kasumi was at his side in an instant, supporting his weight with his arm draped over her shoulder and an arm around his waist. He looked into her eyes thankfully and Cologne, upon seeing this, began a long string of curses in an obscure dialect of Chinese that was hard to follow, but blistering all the same. Nabiki had to wonder what it was that the old crone fed Ranma. Whatever it was, there was little doubt in Nabiki's mind that Kasumi wasn't the person that was supposed to be helping Ranma right now.

As the Amazonian Matriarch continued to spout her blazing curses, a new voice rose above the noise of the crowd. Nabiki couldn't pinpoint Gosunkugi, as the young man's squeaky voice seemed to echo ominously throughout the courtyard of the dojo. The air seemed to thicken and twist as the arcane words danced on a rapidly building wind. Something in her mind seemed to want to reject the words, as if understanding them would only drive her mad. She looked around and noted that others were feeling the same way as a clammy, unnatural feeling prickled along the surface of her skin.

The wrongness grew thicker as black storm clouds gathered in the sky overhead, and an ominous roll of thunder rumbled in the distance as Gosunkugi's voice reached a crescendo. Nabiki's heart leapt into her throat as the air seemed to thicken. She saw Ranma look up with dread anticipation and then, with a desperate shove, he sent Kasumi stumbling away. Nodoka and Nabiki intercepted her and pulled the young woman to the relative safety of the house as Ranma stood straight, flared his aura and braced himself defiantly for what he knew was coming. Everyone fell silent with anticipation as Gosunkugi's voice stopped speaking abruptly.

There was a flash of blinding light and a roar that left the ears ringing. The force of the blast knocked everyone off their feet, inside the compound and out. Nabiki blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to clear the spots enough to see, and rubbed her ears in order to restore her hearing. As she looked to where Ranma had been standing, a horrific sight greeted her. The area immediately around him was charred black, and Ranma's clothing hung from his frame in wispy black tendrils that hid nothing of his poor abused body.

The young man's head was thrown back, and his body was stiff with agony. There was an unearthly white glow surrounding him and, every once in a while, black ringlets of lightning would crawl up and down his form. Nabiki couldn't hear him, but it was obvious that he was screaming. She felt her eyes filling with tears as Kasumi tore from her grip and rushed towards the young man. She was forced to stop every few steps as Ranma's body doubled over and spasmed. The eldritch glow flared many times and then, to everyone's awe and disgust, Ranma's form began to…boil. Nabiki couldn't come up with a sufficient word to describe how his body seemed to be in a constant state of change. He looked like a lump of soft clay that was being squished and stretched by some sadistic little kid.

More than one of the by standers were physically ill at the sight. Nabiki included.

It took forever for Ranma's malleability to stabilize. But once it did, the poor fool collapsed in a heap and lay very still. Kasumi wasted no time in getting to his side this time, but she dared not to touch him until the ethereal glow dissipated completely. She watched in awe, as the pulsing light seemed to get sucked into the ring on Ranma's finger. She'd never seen the like, and doubted that she ever would again. At least that was her hope.

When the magic seemed to finally die away Kasumi, with Nodoka's help, was able to turn Ranma onto his back. After a quick once over to make sure he was breathing, Ranma's new wife ordered Uncle Genma to carry the young man inside the house. When she was certain that he was safe and free from further harm, the eldest Tendo turned on those that had attacked Ranma; the barely restrained fury was plain in her eyes. It was the one of the oddest and most disturbing sights that Nabiki had ever seen, and she had been privy to the sight of Kasumi's anger before.

Ryouga and Tatewaki had scarcely recovered from Miss Hinako's assault and had pulled themselves to their feet. By the expressions on their faces, they wished that they had stayed down. Cologne and Shampoo's father shifted uncomfortably by the main gate, and the crowd surrounding Gosunkugi parted like the Red Sea with fingers pointing nervously to the pale, would-be sorcerer. Ryouga and Kuno, being the closest to Kasumi were the first to feel her wrath. Their distress was duly ignored as she stormed over to them and, to the shock of everyone gathered, slapped the pair soundly across the face. Angry tears streamed down Kasumi's face, and she was unable to speak to vent her rage as she glared at the two young men hatefully.

No one, not even Nabiki, had ever seen this sweet and gentle person, driven to this extreme. It was implausible. Yet, out of all that had happened today, nothing shocked Nabiki more than her older sister's words when she finally gathered the strength to speak.

**************

Kasumi was livid. She was beyond anger, and well into barely controlled fury. Her hand stung, but she felt oddly satisfied at the feeling. She knew that her strike hadn't harmed the two fools, but at the very least she had their attention.

"If either of you come near my husband again, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you live to regret it."

She could hear Nabiki's gasp behind her, but paid it no heed. She only had eyes for the fools that had hurt Ranma, and only Cologne seemed able to meet her eyes. Tatewaki Kuno gathered the courage to raise his head and was opening his mouth to denounce her or slander Ranma in some way.

Kasumi silenced him by simply narrowing her eyes.

"I swear to you, Kuno-san, on the soul of my dearly beloved mother, that I will declare a blood feud here and now if you so much as utter another word against Ranma." She raised her eyes to everyone that had hurt Ranma in some way or another. "That goes for all who have attacked my husband today! You dishonor my family and me with your actions. I ask that you leave…now, and never darken our door again. You are no longer welcome here."

"Kasumi-san…" Ryouga began.

"Not another word, Hibiki-san. Not from you and most certainly not from him." Kasumi stabbed her finger in Tatewaki's direction. "Ranma may have been honor bound to keep your secret, but I am not. If it were not for Ranma's insistence that I keep silent, your actions would have come to light long ago."

She looked him dead in the eye and pursed her lips angrily.

"Leave and never return. If you do, in either form, know that Akane will hear about your abuse of her trust at the first available opportunity." She paused. "On second thought, I will not wait that long. You've hurt my family and abused the honor of those I love long enough. Akane will know of your treachery before the day is out."

Ryouga and Kuno simply stood before the young woman in shock, unable or unwilling to connect the elegant powerhouse before them with the quiet angel they had known her to be just hours ago. The cold, yet severe, look in her eyes told the pair that Kasumi was more than serious. Ryouga looked ready to protest again, but hung his head in shame and defeat. He left the compound without another word, surrounded by a sickly green aura that seemed to grow larger with each step he took.

Principal Kuno, having returned from his impromptu egress in time to hear the young woman's ultimatum, scooped up his children in a rush and departed the Tendo-ke as quickly as possible. He might be insane, but he wasn't stupid. Any conflict with the Tendos and the Saotomes was destined to hurt, but a blood feud with the new bride's family was not something that he could afford. Sasuke, at a silent signal from the Kuno patriarch, took the opportunity to apologize to the stern faced Kasumi, and made certain that she knew that the Kuno family would make reparations for their acts today. Kasumi silently ignored the diminutive ninja, but made it a point to send him a letter with her own apology for her treatment of him. Maybe she could even steer his attentions towards a certain Amazon warrior and kill two birds with one stone.

She watched him disappear through the gate, and noted that many of her friends and neighbors were starting to disperse as well. Soon the rest of the crowd evaporated to almost nothing. She smiled at a few that made eye contact with her, silently smoothing the ruffled feathers that she could. Mimi-chan wasted little effort in making her way over to Kasumi's side and held her friend close. Kasumi returned the comforting embrace gladly, drawing strength from the gesture.

"I'll call you." Mimi-chan squeezed Kasumi's hand.

"I think it would be better if I called you."

Mimi-chan nodded.

"Congratulations again." Kasumi's friend smiled weakly. "I'm sorry that everything turned out the way it did."

"It was inevitable." Kasumi sighed. "But Ranma and I thank you all the same."

As Mimi-chan left with the rest of the stragglers, Kasumi let the strange words tumble through her head.

"Ranma and I." She whispered.

What an odd but wonderful concept.

**************

Ranma awoke to intense pain. Every nerve ending was aflame and a serious pressure pressed against the back of his eyes. It felt as if his head was in a vice that someone was slowly cranking closed. He moaned and tried to lift his hand to ward off the light that was streaming in through his eyelids, but all that he was able to do was twitch.

He hadn't felt this bad in years.

He groaned and tried to roll over, but was stopped by a strong pair of hands pressing into his bare shoulders.

"Try not to move, Ranma."

Kasumi.

Her hands were warm against the cool clamminess of his skin. He could tell that he was sweating, and it reminded him of all the times he'd caught colds when he was younger. The weakness and the feelings of displacement were all reminiscent of a breaking fever. It was one explanation for the weird sensations his body was experiencing. He'd always felt like his skin was either too tight or too loose when he'd had a high fever. He shivered as a sudden chill washed through his body.

"Are you cold?" Kasumi asked. The worry in her voice was troublesome. He hated the thought of causing her distress, but he couldn't deny the facts.

He grunted and nodded as best he could, trying keep his teeth from chattering.

Kasumi responded immediately by covering him up to the neck with a blanket. He smiled weakly and tried to thank her, but his throat was raw and scratchy. He ended up hacking terribly and once the coughing had passed, Kasumi lifted his head and pressed a straw to his lips. Ranma sipped slowly, lest he choke, and again smiled gratefully.

He could already feel the fatigue weighing on him, drawing him back into the blackness of dreamtime, but he was loath to let go just yet. Kasumi gently laid his head back into a soft pillow, and for a split second between dreaming and awake, he felt her lips press against his.

A dream. It must be a dream.

**************

End: Prologue


	4. Heir of Avalon 01

Author's Notes: This is my stab at Harry is Lord of..i (insert magical island/kingdom here). Kudos to Rorsch, who I blame wholeheartedly and with absolute admiration, for inspiring this idea. It's his fault tht I'm not finishing any of my other stuff...yeah.

Heir of Avalon 01

Augustine Bartholomew Antolios, the Lord Regent of Azkaban, strode through the massive gold doors of Gringotts London Branch early in the morning on the Tuesday, July thirtieth, unimpeded and unchallenged. Had the handful of Ministry employees he encountered on the way in, known who he was and just whom he happened to represent – even if that person had yet to be crowned, there was little doubt in his mind he would have quietly disappeared before crossing half the lobby.

Luckily, the Ministry was in an uproar at the moment. The current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was under direct fire from his constituents and his peers. There was talk of impeachment and even worse…criminal charges for his negligence and willful endangerment of the public.

As if that wasn't enough, the papers were in an uproar over the sightings of Dementors on the prowl and the general panic that was fallout from Voldemort breaching the holiest of holies of the Ministry of Magic. Had it not been for some timely photos, Augustine knew that Fudge would have had the whole event swept under the carpet. The subsequent article in the Quibbler pegged the whole thing as an "I-told-you-so" and dared the current administration to try and cover it up. Had he the time, Augustine would have giggled like a schoolgirl – sadly, he only managed a slight chuckle as he made his way up to an unoccupied teller.

As Lord Regent, his power and authority were, at best, ceremonial as far as his people were concerned. He was a member of the Council of Nine, with only the power to break ties in their debates and in passing new legislation for the few Azkabanni that remained tied to the islands of Caer Azkaban. He was saddened by this, yet had very little to say on the matter. The Council of Nine had capitulated to Cromwell's little revolution, during Charles the First's stupidity, after the Rump Parliament had the last Lord of Azkaban and the majority of his family assassinated.

Augustine's grandfather, the named Regent of the time, smuggled the last surviving daughter of the royal line out of the islands in the hands of a cook and footman loyal to the Throne. The pair disappeared into the Muggle world, leaving behind their families and friends. The youngest daughter of a scullery maid donned the appearance of the Princess and gave her life, as well as the life of her mother, to throw off pursuit.

Augustine's grandfather subsequently died under mysterious circumstances and the Regency fell to Augustine's father, who lived to the ripe old age of two hundred before passing the reigns of authority into Augustine's capable hands with but one command: find the lost bloodline and restore the _People_ to their birthright.

Over the course of time, the Council of Nine stripped Augustine of his political power and sold themselves as whores to the various magical ministries throughout the world that bordered their territories. They allowed their people to be driven from the lands of their inheritance, scattered to the four winds, and loathed as thieves and oath-breakers throughout the world. In order to protect themselves the Azkabanni forsook their name and heritage, calling themselves the _Rom_. The Muggles developed many names for the wandering souls, but the most prevalent was _gypsy_.

Augustine was over one hundred and ninety four years old this year, but thanks to a Life Debt owed him by Nicholas Flamel and a judicious supply of the Elixir of Life, he didn't look a day over fifty. He had spent over one hundred and fifty years tracing the path of those brave servants, in an attempt to find the heir of Azkaban's throne. Two years ago, he verified the last surviving children of Azkaban's blood. Sadly, both seemed beyond his reach. One was a fugitive from the law, while the other was the wizarding world's youngest hero. Finding their whereabouts had been all but impossible; doing so without anyone knowing you were searching was nothing short of miraculous. Now, after years of searching, he had finally gotten a lead and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

"May Jotumn favor your family and friends with good fortunes, profitable guardian." He bowed deeply at the waist, but did not lower his eyes. The goblin seemed unnerved that a wizard would invoke the name of a goblin deity, let alone use a formal greeting. Shocked or no, the teller quickly stood and returned the bow.

"May Gobbstank ward your dealings, noble Lord."

"Thank you. That is my hope as well." The Lord Regent smiled genuinely. "If it pleases you, I have an appointment with High Warden Nabbak and stand in need of a guide through the warrens to guard my path."

Augustine chose his words carefully, automatically deferring to the goblin rather than demanding his cooperation.

"It will be my honor to escort you, noble Lord."

The exchange ended there and the rest of the trip into the bowels of the bank was traveled in an economical silence. Goblins hated idle chit-chat. To them it was little more than frivolous and idiotic babbling, and felt that there were only certain venues where it was polite to discuss personal topics such as family and health. Most wizards could care less about goblin politics and even fewer had any real concept or understanding of their religion. Thus there really was no need for the usual banter that went along with the trip.

By the time Augustine had arrived at the High Warden's den, his escort was looking at him with something akin to awe…well as much as it was goblinly possible to show awe to a human. The Lord Regent furthered this impression by invoking a polite, if totally archaic, demonstration of gratitude to his escort.

"You do realize of course that the entire warren will be gossiping about you for the next fiscal quarter, don't you?" The High Warden Nabbak didn't look up from the ancient ledger he was studying. It was a large tome, literally the size of a man and as thick as a fat goblin.

"Of course." Augustine smiled impishly. "I'm laying seeds to germinate in my absence."

"For your King or for yourself?" Nabbak asked shrewdly as he pulled a large magnifying glass from thin air. The Lord Regent snorted as the goblin began to examine the tiny text of the book through the enchanted aid.

"You above all others should understand the symbiotic nature of my station. My popularity reflects on his Majesty's influence and vice versa."

Nabbak nodded.

"True. True. But I must know, are your intentions really that altruistic…or simply a means to an end?" Augustine looked slightly affronted. "Do not misunderstand my curiosity for a judgment, Lord Regent. Wizarding politics is often detrimental to good business."

The Lord Regent snorted again.

"So, in the asking you are looking out for the interests of your bank?"

"Quite the contrary, Augustine Antolios." The wizened goblin shook his head. "While your fledgling king has much to offer the Goblin Nation, it is not our investment that holds my interest at the moment. It is the welfare of an old friend."

"And what has you so concerned for my well being?"

Nabbak carefully marked his place in the ledger and stood from his desk. He slowly rounded and settled himself on a fat, black silk pillow that began to lift from the floor and float at eye level for Nabbak's guest. The goblin summoned a tea set of fine Chinese porcelain and began to pour.

"This wizardling that you have discovered is more than he appears. You know this and I know this." Nabbak passed a cup to the Azkabanni without looking up. "Many, with far more influence and practical experience than you and I, have tried to control him and failed. Their manipulations, subtle and overt, have been met with an unyielding determination. And their desired goals are always lost to them."

"I take it you speak of Voldemort?" Augustine asked seriously.

"Not only he, but Dumbledore, and the Ministry of Magic, and various other parties that skirt the major players in young Potter's life." Nabbak sighed. "When the Heritage Ritual is administered to him, I expect to see a strong noble bloodline backing him."

"But?" Augustine urged. He hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Nabbak at length about what the goblin had learned of Harry's ancestors.

"If what you have uncovered in his lineage is true, then you would be a fool to cross him, Augustine Antolios." The rebuke was blunt and to the point, true to goblin decorum. "The boy is Greatness. The signs are there, for those who wish to see, and I can guarantee you that the ritual will name him many things…things that are both surprising and fearful to everyone."

"What kinds of things?" The Lord Regent set his tea down with trembling hands.

The goblin glared at him.

"I skirt the line of propriety by simply having this discussion with you, Lord Regent. I cannot and will not betray my station any further. We will present him with the Black and Potter inheritances through Black's solicitor this afternoon. Should he desire to partake of our hospitality, we shall all know for certain one way or another, tomorrow afternoon."

"Surely, at the very least, you can give me some hint of what I am dealing with."

"The laws are plain, Lord Regent." Nabbak shook his head. "I cannot disclose any information protected by the client privilege treaty. I will not cross the Taakekaach. Not for you, or anyone else in this world…goblin or otherwise."

"The Taakekaach…." Augustine's whole body shivered visibly. "You are certain?"

There was a desperate quality to his whisper.

"I will say nothing more on the subject Lord Regent." The goblin said with finality. The High Warden lifted his cup and sipped his tea.

"The Taakekaach!" The Lord Regent slumped into the chair and stole a look at the goblin, but found nothing but stoic silence.

Prophesy, regardless of the race giving it, was a tricky thing. More often than not, it was self-fulfilling, but there were times, when the predictions were so vague and symbolic that their fulfillment could come and go without notice. Some prophetic myths had risen after the fall of Atlantis and continued to thrive in the various magical communities. Each race had their own magical savior, buried in their annuals or revered openly in their everyday religious ceremonies. The Taakekaach was the goblin harbinger of chaos, the catalyst for change and rebirth. The warrior figure was at best the reason for the multitude of rebellions the goblins undertook; a being that would shake the foundations of the world and usher in an age of unequalled prosperity for the Golden Folk.

Goblin history was filled with a number of false prophets claiming to be this feared and revered figure, but none had the true power and scope to fulfill the prophesies of the Taakekaach. The significance of Nabbak naming a non-goblin as the fabled harbinger was not lost on Augustine.

"Myrddinson for true." Augustine shook his head in disbelief.

"I beseech you as a friend. Do not toy with the Lord-Baron when he comes into his power tomorrow, Augustine." Nabbak's voice was heavy with caution. "It will be the end of you if you do."

"Had it come from anyone but you, Nabbak Platinumfingers, I would have scoffed and been on my way." The Azkabanni stared at the goblin for a very long time before shaking his head with dark mirth. "I will heed your counsel."

The goblin nodded and summoned a plate of chocolate truffles. He offered Augustine first pick but was declined.

"Tell me, High Warden. Do you think he will be able to unlock the Nine Gates?"

Nabbak swallowed his truffle with a mouthful of tea before answering.

"I feel it terribly foolish to underestimate the boy. Both Voldemort and Dumbledore have, and the child has surprised them at every turn." He snatched up another truffle and popped in his mouth. "In the end, it would be one way to fulfill his role as Taakekaach. Truly, there is only one way to find out."

Augustine nodded thoughtfully.

"At the very least you have the _Extremus Parvulus_ as a starting point." Nabbak smiled lecherously.

"That accounts only for two wives, my dear Goblin; and current trends in both wizarding and muggle Britain being what they are, I sincerely doubt his morality will allow for seven more."

"What is morality in the face of tradition?" Nabbak shrugged. "According to all texts, both Lord Emrys and Lord Ambrosius had quite the harems."

"True, but those were different times, weren't they? The only way to marry him to seven more women would be to manipulate him into it – and you just counseled me against toying with his Majesty."

"That I did. That I did." Nabbak plucked up another truffle. "But I am not telling you to manipulate him as Dumbledore does. The Taakekaach is no one's puppet."

"Then what would you have me do?"

"Follow the Goblin Way, Lord Antolios. Be brutally honest while playing off of his desires." Nabbak grinned toothily. "What is it Lord Potter-Black needs most in his life right now?"

"Control. Freedom. Without meeting him face to face, I am uncertain really."

"From whom and from what does he seek these things?" Nabbak urged.

"Dumbledore, the Ministry, Voldemort, and if the rumors from the Department of Mysteries are true…apparently a prophesy."

"The first two are easily addressed. Sirius Black's last wishes will free him of one and his newfound titles and political power will give him the means to be done with the other." The High Warden poured Augustine a fresh cup of tea as he continued. "The prophesy, whatever it says, will care for itself; leaving only Voldemort."

"And the means to deal with him, no doubt hides behind the Nine Gates." Augustine concluded with a sigh. "Somehow, I am feeling less in control of my life than when I woke this morning."

"Agents of Prophesy are ever shadowed by doubt, old friend. Do not think about it overmuch. Ask yourself if this course feels right. It is all that you can do."

"And if it is?"

"Accept that your choice to follow this path will usher in a new age of enlightenment and prosperity."

"And what of my agency?" The Lord Regent snarled in frustration.

"It is a gift that you give to your progeny, Augustine." Nabbak set his teacup down. "There are no guarantees that Harry Potter-Black will be the one to open the Nine Gates. There is nothing to say that he is the true Taakekaach either. In the end, we must all walk by faith and conviction…regardless of what signs and portents we see in the stars."

"In youth, hope springs eternal." Augustine lifted his cup in toast to his goblin friend.

"Then may we be forever young." Nabbak touched his cup to the man's with a light clink, before draining his tea. He lifted the plate of sweets with another toothy grin. "Truffle?"

The Lord Regent allowed a carefree smile to split his face as he accepted.

"Think you're so damn smart, do you?"

Harry Potter had weathered the tempest known as Vernon Dursley for as long as he could remember. He was a blustery and loud sort, but had only occasionally resorted to violence. There had been a few incidents, most during the summer months where the results of his rage wouldn't be too obvious. Today though, Harry knew that his uncle was building up a major squall.

The thing that made this encounter different from past experiences was the cold and calculating manner in which the man was speaking. Vernon's temper had been on a slow build since the day Harry had gotten off the train and Harry was certain that it wasn't going to blow over easily. There was none of the accustomed yelling or frothing at the mouth – there was just a great deal of mumbling and the occasional clear phrase or epitaph.

Harry, who had faced down a twenty four meter basilisk at the age of twelve, was starting to feel a clenching in his gut that he'd only associated with life or death situations. It was definitely not the type of excitement that one would enjoy on the day before their sixteenth birthday.

Things might not have been so bad, had the well meaning members of the Order left well enough alone. Sadly for Harry, they continued to leave small reminders for the Dursleys in odd and unobtrusive places…places that Harry's relatives were sure to see them. It had begun with a small note appearing before Petunia at the kitchen table, politely suggesting that she add a little more meatloaf to his plate. Other notes had been found charmed to mirrors, nestled in Petunia's knickers or tucked in Vernon's socks. Harry had almost busted a gut when all of the pictures in one of Dudley's porn rags had suddenly been replaced with "Be nice to Harry" notices. The Boy-Who-Lived didn't really know who to blame these reminders on, but he knew that the twins had to have a hand in it. Still, it didn't really help the tension in the house at all.

There was murder in Vernon's eyes every morning at breakfast, and the man's face had adopted a consistent, nasty shade of purple when dinner arrived. The constant anger couldn't be good for the man's health, and Harry had made certain to write the Order to tell them to back off…for all the good that it did. The notes had slowed significantly from daily occurrences to one every three days, but their placement began to get more and more creative. For example, today's notice had been a reminder that Harry's birthday was tomorrow. The fact that it was printed on every roll of toilet paper in the house didn't go over too well. Harry could tell that simply enough from the way the steering wheel groaned every time Vernon made a turn or adjusted his drift. Still, being frog marched out of the house and into a store for new clothes hadn't been so bad. That was, until they returned to the car and found that Petunia's skirt had been charmed to have little floating cakes and dancing house elves that serenaded the family with a screeching rendition of the happy birthday song. Petunia promptly fainted and the purple on Vernon's face was getting darker and darker.

Harry's instincts were screaming that this was not a safe place to be. Regardless of the danger in the air, and in spite of the fact that his intuition was demanding for him to escape, Harry knew from experience that he wouldn't be able to avoid what was coming. Even if he wanted to dodge the man's rage, where on Earth could he possibly escape to? He was trapped at Privet Drive until Dumbledore and the Order felt it safe enough to move him. Harry wondered if he would ever feel truly safe again.

A seed of mistrust, long ago planted in his mind, sunk another root. Dumbledore could supposedly protect him from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but he did nothing to protect Harry from the wrath of his own family. In truth, it seemed to the young Gryffindor that Dumbledore's Order, for all of their good intentions, was doing more to place his life in danger than the Death Eaters. No, these people…and most especially Albus Dumbledore…were doing nothing to bolster Harry's confidence in their ability to protect him and save the wizarding world. There were so many little things which, when added up, made Harry wonder if Dumbledore really wanted him to survive his eventual encounter with Voldemort.

During the quiet moments he'd managed to steal from Umbridge and the rest of the madness, Harry had silently wondered just how effective the wards were supposed to be now that Voldemort had his blood. It was one of many puzzle pieces in Harry's life that weren't fitting together very well, and it had lead him to examine the many other inconsistencies in Dumbledore's story.

Unfortunately, from the way Vernon's teeth were now grinding, he doubted that he was going to survive long enough to solve this new puzzle.

"Couldn't keep your mouth shut could you? You had to open your mouth and start spouting lies about us!"

The car screeched to a halt in the drive of number four and Vernon wasted no time in setting the emergency brake so that he could backhand Harry into Dudley. The obese whale took the opportunity afforded him and used what leverage he could to launch a punch that sent Harry's head into the passenger window. Dudley wasted no time in falling on Harry again and wrapped his meaty hands around his cousin's throat. A violent cadence built between Harry's head bouncing off the window and the counter beat of Vernon's fist slamming into the side of the young wizard's face.

Through the haze of pain and the blood pounding in his ears, Harry could hear his aunt screaming at the pair to stop. It was a useless gesture really; there was blood in the water and now that Vernon and Dudley had a way to vent years of frustrations, they weren't going to stop until Harry was a smear on the upholstery.

Harry refused to go down without a fight and managed to put his weight behind a wicked kick that would end the Dursley line for good. It cost him a terrible hit to the head that shattered the already bloody window, but it gave him enough of a reprieve to fumble blindly for the door handle. Sadly, the pain and his concussion made it nearly impossible to open the door fast enough. While Dudley squealed and whimpered in his agony, Vernon leapt from the driver's seat and ran around the back of the car. Petunia tried to head him off, but was shoved to the ground for her troubles.

The door was ripped open and Harry was dragged from the back seat by his bloody hair. He hit the ground at a drag and was tugged and yanked out into the grass. Vernon displayed that he was wearing steel-toed shoes today and wondered if all of this hadn't been planned from the beginning. Vernon certainly parted with his money easily enough – there had been only a token grumble here and there now that Harry thought about it.

He could hear Petunia's voice calling out again as if from a great distance, this time it sound like something between a hissed whisper and a scream. Even now, here in the fading light of the evening and on the front lawn in full view of the neighbors, she was trying her damnedest to put on airs for the other busybodies of Privet Drive.

The woman made him sick. All of this made him sick. He was tired of not fighting back, so he did the only thing that he could think of in the hazy fog his mind had become. He went limp.

He allowed his body to become dead weight in order to counter his attacker's momentum; even though it caused his head to scream as his hair came out at the root in his uncle's fist. Still, it had the desired effect of slowing the brute down and making him turn his attention back to Harry. That in and of itself gave the young wizard all the leverage he needed. As Vernon turned to gather another handful of hair, or quite possibly kick his nephew in the ribs, Harry twisted into the grip and planted his feet underneath him. He immediately pushed off the ground and into Vernon's knees, causing a sickly "Pop!" that made Petunia squeak and cover her mouth.

At the least it shut her up. Harry thought an expression of relief passed over his uncle's face for an instant, but the pasty color he had turned might have made him see things. That or maybe it was the blood in his eyes. Either way, he was really impressed that the bloated walrus wasn't on the ground screaming. He was just rolling on the ground cursing violently at Harry, regaling the poor boy's concussed mind with all the physically impossible tortures he had in store for him once he was on his feet again. Not for the first time, Harry wondered where his Order guard was.

Harry would have laughed if his head didn't ache so. Never had he felt an epiphany hit him as hard as it did in that moment. Then again, it just as well might have been Dudley's right hook to the side of his head that caused everything to fall into stark focus.

The Order wasn't coming, and they never would. He was on his own, just as he had been since Dumbledore left Harry on this very doorstep fourteen plus years ago. Sure he had reliable people in his camp: Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, the Twins, and Remus. Tonks seemed pretty cool last he'd seen of her, and maybe Moody – he could never be too sure around the old Auror, which was probably exactly what the grizzled old codger wanted. Arthur and Molly were also a possibility, but they were more like surrogate parents which generally had them falling on the wrong side of things in Harry's book.

Anyone else…well, they were just a happy bonus weren't they?

As Dudley began to pound Harry's face to mush, the young wizard wondered at the fact that well over half of the people he could count on were minors. Minors that had certainly survived last month at the Ministry, but how much of that was actually luck and how much of it was due to the fact that Voldemort's moron's hadn't been actively trying to kill them outright?

Harry ignored the pain his face was in and grabbed Dudley's ears. Yanking down as hard as he could, Harry crushed Duddikin's nose with his forehead then kneed the blubbering whale in the groin again with as much force as he could muster. If the first shot hadn't cured the world of the Dursley plague, the second surely did. Harry's cousin went limp, groaning and coughing as he rolled weakly to the side, allowing Harry the opportunity to free himself and stagger to his feet. That was when Petunia threw pretenses to the four winds and started clawing his face and smacking and kicking him towards Vernon.

Weak and foggy, Harry didn't realize his dire predicament until it was too late. One moment he was standing and the next he was on his back with Vernon's hands squeezing at his throat. Harry did his best to claw, kick, punch, and strike at what vulnerable areas were available, but Vernon just ignored him and applied more pressure. Harry thought he saw flashing lights and possibly heard a siren through the rushing blood in his ears, but he couldn't be sure. All that he knew for certain was that the world was graying around him and he felt really, really light for some reason.

Nymphadora Tonks, though only a two year rookie on the force, had become something of a force of nature amongst the ranks of the British Ministry of Magic's Auror Corps. Most wouldn't remember her sorting at Hogwarts, but those few that did could tell you that she had taken just as much time to sort as Harry Potter. She was ambitious and cunning, but frightfully intelligent and observant as well. She had a thirst for adventure that wouldn't quit, but would die for those few friends she allowed herself to have.

When she came under the Hat's judgment, she had taken a lesson from her mother's stories of cousin Sirius and asked to be placed in a house where she could have fun and find life-long friends. Surprisingly enough, she was placed in Hufflepuff, where she met Hestia Jones and Emmaline Vance. They were the Golden Trio of her graduating class, making almost as much mischief as Harry, Ron, and Hermione did…only with fewer lives hanging in the balance.

When the three graduated, they remained close, and it was on Tonks' recommendation that they joined the Order of the Phoenix when Dumbledore approached her for membership. They had each taken their turns in guarding Harry Potter after the Tri-Wizard Tounrament but, ever since Mundungus Fletcher's idiocy last summer, Tonks had been paired with the drunken thief as a babysitter of sorts. Considering the events of June, she was somewhat glad to have a partner – even one as worthless as Dung. Knowing that she wasn't alone out here made the pain and emptiness she was feeling easier to bear.

She felt like such a failure. Between the failed duel with her psycho aunt and Sirius' death at Bellatrix' wand, she was truly wondering if she had what it took to be an Auror. It was truly a surprise that Remus had demanded that Dumbledore pair her up for this shift to guard Harry, considering all that the man had lost because of her. Still it was nice to know that someone still had faith in her.

The sound of raised voices in the front yard drew her attention, but it was the sound of Vernon Dursley's roar of pain that made her jump to her feet and run to the front. What she came upon made her blood boil.

The chaos that Privet Drive had become was something that seemed to have come directly from "Monty Python's Flying Circus" or perhaps a tame version of "The Benny Hill Show" – both had multitudes of people engaged in all types of stupidity and frequent displays of violence. Toss in a flash of knickers or a grope or two from perverted old men and you had the fall out from Harry's beating.

Many of the neighbors would look back on that day with wonder, blathering about the black limousine, the mysterious SUVs, helicopters, strange cultists, and the ambulance that came and whisked Privet Drive's scapegoat away. The rather vicious beating the boy had received on the front lawn would be whispered about with concern and shame, but even so nothing beyond generalities would be remembered or spoken of. They wouldn't remember that magic had been involved, or the fact that Dudley Dursley had been turned into a rather large hog. They wouldn't remember the strange young woman with multicolored hair cursing as she and a black lump of old cloth rags were dumped none too gently into the back of the SUVs.

No, in the days ahead the gossip would focus on the mystery of Harry Potter and his connection to the expensive limousine with the odd crest on it. Speculation would run rampant for weeks and weeks until, at last, the urban legend of Harry Potter, the bastard Prince of Whales was born in the parlor of number seven.

His infamy, much to his mortification, would eventually be just as widespread in the Muggle world, as it was in the Magical.

Harry woke to throbbing pain. His body was sore, he had a massive migraine, and he felt incredibly weak. Opening his eyes wasn't even an option at the moment, so he contented himself with using his other senses to feed him the information he needed. The sound of a heart monitor's beeping, the muffled sound of a voice paging a Dr. Ghanji, and the acrid smell of disinfectant told him enough to determine he was in a hospital.

The antiseptic scent and the frigid cold brought back memories of his last visit to a Muggle hospital; strangely enough, it was one of his brighter memories. He had been a six year old bundle of nerves, sporting a broken forearm, and doing his best to hide his anxiety from everyone present as he explained the circumstances of his break to the ER nurse. He distinctly remembered the giant shadow of Uncle Vernon looming over her shoulder, mouthing the prepared lie in time with Harry to make certain he got it right.

Looking back on the event, Harry knew that the woman hadn't believed a word of his tale. He wasn't sure who would believe a story that had a kid as scrawny as Harry trying to push someone of Dudley's stature out of the second story window, only to miss and fall out himself. If Vernon had been just a bit more intelligent, he would have come up with something more plausible, like the stairs or something. Claiming that the Dursley's were intelligent was something of a stretch though, which of course explained the presence of the police detective, and the lady with the candy and the camera that came in later with the doctor.

She had been really nice and given Harry a stuffed dog with black fur after their long talks about his rough nights in the cupboard and life in general with the Dursley's. They named him Lancelot, and she promised that he would guard Harry from the nightmares and the thunder. Lancelot…wow. He hadn't thought of Lancelot in years. The poor toy hadn't even survived the first weekend back – Dudley saw to that. The little tub of lard whined and threw a tantrum until Aunt Petunia simply yanked Lancelot from Harry's good arm and gave it to her son. When Harry protested, she spanked him and made him stand in a corner for the rest of the afternoon.

Dudley made certain that he was in a spot that Harry could see easily enough, and then he proceeded to dismember Lancelot stitch by stitch as Harry looked on. When Petunia passed by her beastly son, she simply asked what he was doing as Dudley went about yanking out Lancelot's stuffing. Dudley had mumbled something about being a "dog doctor" and earned himself a pat on the head for being so clever. Once Dudley lost interest in his "patient" Lancelot was little more than fluff and material. Petunia came into the room an hour later and forced Harry to clean everything up. Lancelot's coffin was the kitchen trash bin. His funeral service was had as Harry carried the trash out to the curb two days later.

Merlin! Harry hated the Dursleys!

As the memories of that time washed over him, Harry was left wondering why the Dursley's hadn't been punished. It didn't make sense that they had gotten off. The more he thought about the last visit, the more he remembered. The police officer taking pictures of his arm and back, had asked a lot of questions about how he'd gotten that little scar on his left shoulder. The fact that it looked distinctly like a belt buckle didn't fit with the story that Harry made up, and with that type of evidence Harry was certain that the Dursley's should have been arrested.

The sound of muted voices caused him to still, in the hopes of gathering some much needed information.

"…worse. As his godfather's solicitor, you are of course within your rights to get a second diagnosis."

The man's voice was a rich baritone, and filled with the authority that seemed to come with being a doctor. Harry felt a bit on edge with the idea that someone claiming to be Sirius' solicitor was in the same room with him. Witch or wizard, he had no real way to protect himself against an attack if these people were Riddle's people. He calmed himself as best he could and contented himself to listen to the conversation. He would worry about defending himself if the situation presented itself.

"Have you already taken pictures?" Harry was a bit taken back to hear a woman's voice, but the calm professionalism she spoke with told him that this was not a person to cross.

"Yes." The doctor paused and Harry could almost see him nodding. "When we found a series of old scars that suggested a long history of abuse, we began documenting everything we could find – from the scar on his forehead to the imprint of the belt buckle on his right buttock."

Harry cringed and blushed a bit at that.

"It is in our final report and once we have Doctor Webber's input, we'll be filing with the CPS rep."

"I hope I didn't offend Doctor Smythe." The woman's voice held a bit of a smile to it. "I don't mean to tell you how to do your job. I just want to make this stick. The poor young man has had to suffer enough at the hands of these people; I just want to see justice done."

"You and me both, Ms. Thornburrow. You and me both." Doctor Smythe paused and Harry felt the hair on his good arm and the back of his neck tingle, and knew that they were looking at him. He lay as still as he could and regulated his breathing to remain relaxed. "Will you need me to stay Doctor Webber?"

"No. But thank you for the offer Doctor Smythe."

The third voice reminded Harry of Dumbledore. It was aged and cultured, with a hint of warmth and openness that invited a smile in those listening to him. That alone put Harry more on edge than before.

"Will there be a problem with me staying, Doctor?" The solicitor had crossed the room and was now at Harry's bedside. "I'd like to take my own notes."

"Considering the circumstances, I don't see why not. But in the interest of patient privacy, I'll have to ask your assistant to step outside."

"That's fine. Rebecca, please accompany Doctor Smythe and see about getting copies of the photos for our records."

"Yes, Ms. Thornburrow." At the sound of the young and decidedly…chocolaty voice, Harry felt tempted to open his eyes. Thankfully the young woman left with Doctor Smythe quickly and soon enough, the sound of the heavy door to the room clicked shut, leaving him alone with Doctor Webber and Ms. Thornburrow. Harry tensed reflexively as a soft hand brushed the bangs of his hair free from his eyes.

"It's okay Mr. Potter, you're among friends." Harry snorted, but refrained from speaking. "For what it's worth, Snuffles told me to thank you for 'turning back time' for him."

Harry couldn't help but open his eyes at that, but immediately cursed and started blinking at the sudden brightness.

"Easy now." The woman's hands brushed across his face lightly relaxing him a bit, and the light in the room dimmed noticeably. "There's no need to push too hard just yet. Right now, all I need you to do is relax and let Healer Webber get his diagnosis out of the way."

"How…" Harry croaked. His throat was raw, making it difficult to speak. "How can I trust you?"

"Moody would be very proud of your 'vigilance' were he here." Healer Webber chuckled.

"So you're with Dumbledore?" Harry growled. He opened his eyes and was finally able to put faces with the voices he'd been hearing.

Ms. Thornburrow was a petite, yet generously proportioned woman. Her curves, as dangerous as they were, weren't half as striking as her sky blue eyes. Her shoulder length black hair framed her gently smiling face perfectly, and something in him told Harry that Sirius had cared deeply for this woman.

Healer Webber, in contrast, was as tall as Dumbledore, but much broader in the shoulder. His head was balding, and what little hair he had left was peppered – mostly white, but with a few dark brown streaks here and there. His eyes had permanent laugh lines and his mouth was pushed up in a perpetual smile.

"No, Mr. Potter. We are agents unto ourselves." Healer Webber stepped up on the other side of the bed and motioned to his companion. "Go on and give him his wand Gillian. We don't have a great deal of time before the interested parties find out which hospital Mr. Potter was taken to. And I don't know about you, but I would rather be somewhere else should Mr. Moldyshorts and the Headpester decide to raid the hospital."

He grinned and winked at Harry, who couldn't help but smile a bit in return. To Harry's relief, the healer didn't start his scan until the young man had firm grip on his wand and gave him permission to begin. As Webber cast his spell, a quill and scroll appeared in front of the healer and began scribbling notes, presumably on everything that was wrong with him. Harry watched with interest as the healer's head bobbed thoughtfully, but when Webber's eyes bulged he couldn't help but feel a little worried. For his part, Healer Webber finished the scan without any further signs of distress.

"Mr. Potter…" The healer dismissed the quill and sealed the scroll with a tap before handing it to Ms. Thornburrow, with instructions to read it later. When he turned his full attention back to Harry, his face was an emotionless mask of professionalism. This sudden shift worried Harry even more.

"Yes?"

"Can you please tell me how it is that you are still alive?"

"Uhm…just lucky I guess?"

"Lucky my arse!" Healer Webber snorted and shook his head. "My good man, you are a walking impossibility."

"What's wrong with me?"

"What's wrong, he says." Webber summoned a chair and sat down next to the bed. "To begin with, you have enough basilisk venom in your system to kill a hundred men."

"Oh. That." Harry smiled at the flummoxed expression on the healer's face. Something told him that it was a rare experience that should be cherished. Sirius' solicitor simply collapsed to the floor with a thud. To her credit she didn't faint, but her eyes were decidedly glazed.

"'_Oh, that?'_ How can you be so cavalier about something so…so…severe?" Ms. Thornburrow squawked from the floor.

"Well, I am a little surprised." Harry motioned to the pitcher of water near his bed, and Healer Webber poured him a small cup before he and Ms. Thornburrow helped him to sit up. Harry drank it carefully, relishing in the soothing coolness.

"Why are you surprised?" Webber asked.

"I thought for sure that the phoenix tears that Fawkes cried into the wound would have dealt with the poison."

"Fawkes?" Thornburrow raised an eyebrow.

"Dumbledore's phoenix." Harry took another sip and winced as his head began pounding again. "So, is that all that's wrong with me?"

"Beyond your infamous scar and your oddly toxic blood, I'm confident that we can fix the rest of you up in a couple of minutes." Webber rolled his neck and shook his head. "It might make you more than a little tired, but in the end you will be back up and _marauding_ about in no time."

Harry winced and tried to suppress the emptiness the healer's words called up in him.

"Before we go forward with anything else, I have some important business to address with you Mr. Potter."

The solicitor conjured her own chair and cast a locking charm on the door. Harry watched nervously as she tapped the right pocket of her suit jacket and reached inside after it stopped glowing. The small briefcase she pulled out was enlarged and set to floating before her like a desk.

"Your godfather came to me in secret at the beginning of your fourth year, and drew up a number of contingency plans to care for you in the event of his capture or death." She gripped his shoulder lightly and Harry made it a point to push his grief away. This was neither the time, nor the place to break down. He nodded for her to continue. "After determining his innocence through various methods, we came up with a way to track his status. Upon learning of his death, a number of those plans were immediately set in motion. One of these plans was to be your formal adoption as Sirius' son and heir. He originally meant to present this to you last Christmas, but he chickened out."

Harry looked stricken, but still managed a weak smile.

"Sirius wanted to be certain that you knew first and foremost that you were the son he'd always wished for, however there were other reasons for him to perform the adoption."

"What reasons?" Harry asked thickly.

"Forgive me if this sounds crass, but it would protect the Black Estate from falling in the hands of people Sirius felt were unworthy of it." She shifted uncomfortably.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Among others. The Lestranges couldn't inherit, but the Carrows could make a grab."

"I assume the Carrows aren't on Santa's nice list."

"You would assume correctly." The solicitor smiled. "They aren't quite as well off as the Malfoy family, but they have enough to cause trouble."

"Something they excel at." Webber shook his head sadly.

Harry nodded. It figured that the rest of Sirius's family would be nasty bastards. The only good ones of the bunch were Sirius and the Tonks family, and since they had been disinherited they weren't eligible for an inheritance. Harry frowned and shook his head. There was no way that he was going to let those vultures get their hands on Sirius' stuff.

"I would be stupid not to accept. Let's do this." Harry smiled sadly as the solicitor nodded. "So, how does the adoption work?"

"Blood adoption is pretty archaic, but it is one of the only blood rituals that still remain legal in Wizarding Britain. It's a fairly simple rite to perform…"

She pulled a jade bowl inlaid with runes made from pearls and opals, and a bone syringe covered in more strange symbols that Harry didn't recognize, from her briefcase and laid it on the tray that Webber had wheeled in front of Harry. Ms. Thornburrow followed these items with a silver vial capped with a copper stopper.

"We draw blood from you and mix it with blood that Sirius donated to the cause." She tapped the vial with her finger. "His blood has a number of spells on it that will bind it to your blood. And if the ritual is successful, you will become his son in both blood and magic."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"Will this have any other effects, and will the poison in my blood cause any problems?"

"Over all," Webber interjected. "…I have no clue how your blood will react. It's a highly charged magical substance now. But, if I were to guess, I would suspect that the phoenix tears are canceling the poison out. There shouldn't be any problems with the ritual, but who can say?"

"Great." Harry moaned. "And the other effects?"

"Generally speaking, there have been instances in the past, where the adopted person will take on some of the genetic dispositions of the adoptive parent. Genetically it could be something as drastic as a change in eye color, or something as benign as adding a bit of color to the hair. Magically speaking, depending on the person donating their blood, the recipient will inherit gifts that run in the family."

"Increase in magic?" Harry asked.

"Not unheard of, but incredibly remote." Harry nodded. "Overall, the changes tend to follow the dominant traits. Physically, I can see you growing an inch or two and maybe gain some control over that unruly mop on your head. Being as strong magically as you are, you will probably not gain much. The only way to be certain would be to check with a Genopath."

"Genopath?" Harry asked. The solicitor smiled and waved.

"I can answer that one. A Genopath is someone who deals with magically tracing bloodlines and the blood gifts that follow those lines." Ms. Thornburrow closed the briefcase and set it beside her on the floor. "I am a licensed Genopath, and if you're open to it, once we're done with the adoption we'll head over to Gringott's."

"Why there?" Harry asked.

"Its where pretty much all of the heritage rituals are held for Great Britain, and they already have all of the facilities and necessary components on hand." She proceeded to roll up his sleeve and, after putting on a handy pair of surgical gloves, picked up the bone syringe. "Considering how close we are to your birthday, the results of the ritual should be impressive. Are you ready for this?"

Harry nodded and winced as she touched the tip of the syringe to his skin. Amazingly, there was no pain…just a tugging sensation. He opened an eye and watched as blood seemed to flow out of his arm and fountain into the bowl. The whole procedure was over in a blink of an eye. He watched avidly as she popped the stopper on the vial and poured Sirius' blood into the bowl. The mixture bubbled violently for a moment, and to the amazement of those watching something unusual happened. A phoenix, composed entirely of blood, flew out of the bowl as the head of an equally crimson basilisk surged upward after it.

Ms. Thornburrow shrieked and jumped out of her chair, while Healer Webber cursed and took to his feet brandishing his wand at the bowl. They all watched in wonder as the shape of a very familiar dog leapt from the blood and onto the head of the King of Serpents and began helping the phoenix. Harry couldn't keep the tears at bay as a stag and a tiger joined the dog in the battle. The contents of the bowl began to glow as another creature surged out of the liquid to join the fight. Harry wasn't certain who the griffin represented, but he had an idea…one that left him feeling warm and comforted.

In no time at all, the basilisk was defeated, the blood stilled, and the ceremonial bowl began to glow with a soft golden light. Ms. Thornburrow sighed with no little relief and settled back into her chair. She carefully picked up the syringe and tapped it against the side of the bowl. Harry watched uncertainly as she pressed it against his arm again. The blood arched from the bowl and back into his veins. It was one of the strangest feelings he'd ever experienced, but it was over soon enough.

"Well, that was certainly eventful." Webber grinned as he ran another diagnosis on Harry's blood. He double checked the results and shook his head. "Interesting."

"What?" Harry demanded. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Webber paused and cocked his head. "Nothing is wrong per say. The venom is still there but it, along with the phoenix tears, has bonded completely with your blood."

"What does that mean?"

"You want the truth?" Harry nodded urgently. "I have absolutely no idea."

Harry growled and fingered his wand. The healer held up his hands in surrender.

"Bear with me, Mr. Potter."

"Lord-Baron." Ms. Thornburrow corrected. Harry's attention shifted to her, making the solicitor fidget nervously.

"Call me Harry. Both of you." The young man countered. His patience was becoming more and more frayed the longer this drug out. He was getting hit by too many things at once, and it was starting to show. "Harry or Mr. Potter, nothing else."

"Yes, er…well Harry, you have to understand that this is a unique event. I have no precedent to work from." The healer sighed and cast another diagnostic spell. "Without more time to study this, I can't say for certain what the outcome will be."

"Best guess then."

"I have no way of knowing where to start. It's hard enough to get an accurate diagnosis on your core as it is, add this into the mix and there's just no way to predict the potential effects without more time and study. Besides, blood disorders have never been my specialty."

"Why?" Harry asked distractedly.

"It's never really interested me…."

"Not the blood!" Harry barked. "My core! Why can't you get a good reading on my core?"

Ms. Thornburrow carefully gathered up her bowl and syringe and replaced them in her briefcase as the mobile table began to rattle. Webber sighed and cast a silencing charm over the door and walls of the room, then folded his hands in his lap before answering.

"There are a series of wards and locks around your core, binding the flows of magic."

"WHAT!" The room itself began to quake and furniture began to dance in tune with Harry's anger. Webber stood quickly and cast a sedation charm on Harry. It didn't put him to sleep as it should, but it calmed him considerably.

"Please let me explain this in full, Harry, before letting yourself get too angry." Harry nodded, but the muscles in his jaw were knotted and his teeth were grinding audibly. "The initial binding is old, probably put in place by your mother or father when you were a baby. It happens and is perfectly legal. Some children are exceptionally strong magically, and parents have to take precautions against accidental magic. Can you see the benefit of doing this?"

Harry nodded again. Accidental magic was sometimes as dangerous to the child as it was to those around him. Binding the power until the magic could be controlled seemed the responsible thing to do.

"Good. Now then, from what I can see, your core has many wards and bindings layered one atop the other. The spell work is exceptional, but…well it would be best to show you a visualization. There's just no way to describe it well enough to do the topic justice."

With a wave of his wand, Webber created a three dimensional representation of Harry's core. On the one hand, it was a beautiful thing to behold. The colors were gorgeous and the way ribbons of magic seemed to pulse and fly free of the main core reminded Harry of pictures he'd seen of the sun when it flared. On the other hand, there were thick bands of blue-gray magic wrapped around the core, containing the growth and freedom of his magic. Seeing it represented in this manner gave clarity to a sensation…a pressure that he'd never really acknowledged before.

There were more than a dozen bands, and even more runic chains, but he could see that they weren't as strong as they looked. They weren't holding back the growth as well as he knew they should. More and more ribbons were slipping free even as he watched the visualization.

"Take them off." His voice was cold, a testament to his emotional control.

"If I could Harry, I would. However, the complexity of these spells is beyond my ability." He smiled apologetically. "I could take a few off to lessen the pressure, but I doubt that you would want them to come off all at the same time anyway."

"Why is that?" Harry was surprised at how detached he suddenly felt.

"The best way to think about it…" Webber waved his wand again, bringing up an image of a dam, complete with spillway. "…to relieve pressure on a dam, you open the flood gates and ease the strain little by little. If you do it all at once…"

"It floods the surrounding area beyond its capacity to handle." Harry finished with a nod.

"Exactly. Your magic, if suddenly freed from the bindings would rush out in a deluge of wild, uncontrollable power." The dam illusion broke flooding the area of the spillway in a violent torrent of water. "At best, you damage the area around you with accidental magic. At worst, your magic burns out, killing yourself and anyone near you."

"Can you tell who did this to me?" Harry gripped the sheets, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it from someone else.

"Albus Dumbledore. These spells have his signature all over them." Harry nodded and slumped against his pillow. Ms. Thornburrow took his good hand into her own and squeezed it comfortingly.

"I want you to understand something, Harry." Webber's ever present smile vanished from his face. "Binding of a magical core beyond the seventh year of a child is a criminal offense for anyone except certified Healers, and even then they are only administered by a triad under the most dire of circumstances."

"What happens to someone caught doing this?" Harry couldn't help but be curious. It wasn't that he wanted revenge, but understanding the big picture seemed to be helping him deal with things. Ms. Thornburrow stroked the back of his hand with her fingers, drawing his attention to her.

"If this is an accurate representation of what was done to you…" Webber nodded. "…then the minimum a convicted party could expect would be to spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban. The maximum penalty is the Dementor's kiss. Willfully stunting a child's magical growth would be like cutting a baby's legs off. It is the grossest abuse a magical child can suffer."

Harry suddenly felt even more numb and disconnected than before. A part of him raged in the background, while another piece of him wept. He was somewhat surprised when he felt Ms. Thornburrow wipe a tear away with her thumb. Without thinking or hesitating, he pushed himself into her arms and broke down. It felt good to cry, but he was still acutely aware of the vulnerability he was presenting to the world. It took quite some effort, but he managed to get himself under control again.

"Well, on the plus side you haven't sprouted wings or grown scales yet." Webber quipped, obviously hoping to lift Harry's spirits some. Too late he realized his faux pas as Harry's face paled. Even as the vision of Voldemort's grotesque, serpentine face loomed in the forefront of his mind, Harry heard the healer stumble over his apologies.

"What were you thinking?!" Ms. Thornburrow chided hotly. She wasted no time in grabbing Harry's face in her hands and forcing his eyes to focus on her. "Harry, love, listen to me."

He heard her, but couldn't escape the hideous laughter echoing in his mind.

"Are you listening?"

He thought he nodded, but Voldemort's voice was so distracting to his mind that he couldn't be one hundred percent certain.

"Let's get you healed up and out of here. We'll go to Gringotts and perform the Heritage Ritual, get you something solid to eat, and then Healer Webber can look into what options we have as far as fixing your core go. How does that sound?"

Harry just stared beyond her, unable to cleanse himself of Voldemort's taint. His scar began to throb and with it, the image of the monster began to morph and change. The red eyes of his adversary slowly became green, and the bald, scaly head began to grow locks of thick, wild, black hair.

"Harry! Come back to us!"

He wanted to throw up.

"Damn it Webber! Do something!"

He wanted to scream.

"His magic is starting to spike! Anything that I do now could very well kill him!"

He wanted to tear the thing's face off.

"We don't have time for this! If they didn't know where he was before, they certainly do now!"

He settled for laughing. It was pretty funny after all…him turning into Voldemort. He looked absolutely butt-monkey ugly, not to mention down right stupid. Scales? Green eyes? It was absolutely repulsive!

"Do you have the homunculus?"

Better to go with the wings.

"You can't be thinking about moving him in this condition?"

Yeah, wings. They were cooler in the long run. Maybe they would tag him as an angel for once, instead of a devil. Then again, knowing his luck, some Jimmy Whacko would see him and name him the Angel of Death. If it was Riddle, that wouldn't be so bad – but there was no way he'd be that fortunate.

"We don't exactly have a choice now do we? Besides, if you'd been watching his wounds, you'd notice that he's been healing them!"

The more he thought about it though, being an Angel of Death did sound pretty cool. People wouldn't print stupid lies about him…well, the Sun would…but they were just plain silly to begin with.

"He can't be moved while his magic is so volatile!"

It wasn't like anyone took that rag seriously.

"Why not?"

It was all, "Page 3 this" and "Page 3 that."

"Do you really think the Muggles will not notice the arching energy? Maybe they'll just be polite and ignore the pulsing light radiating off his body?"

Harry didn't understand the fascination.

"Well, what should we do then?"

The fact that Dudley read the thing, miraculous as that was, was enough to turn Harry off of it from the start.

"We need to bring him out of whatever negative memories or emotions he's experiencing! Reinforce something positive!"

No. It was best to steer clear of anything Dudley enjoyed.

"Isn't that what we're trying to do?"

He'd lived by that rule all of his life, and it hadn't failed him yet.

"It has to be more! Something deeper…more primal! He's too far gone for anything else!"

Harry's mind and body was suddenly assaulted by a warm pressure, particularly around his mouth. In analyzing the sensation more, he knew that it felt familiar…but still foreign. The fact that it was a bit damp brought up a picture of Cho Chang for some reason, but that image fled as a new sensation filled his body. He felt light and hungry at the same time. His stomach muscles tightened and his blood began to pound in his veins, pushing the warmth from his face, down his neck, and into the pit of his stomach. He felt all of his muscles tighten, and the nerves in his fingers and hands suddenly began cataloging something wonderfully soft.

It took his mind a few heartbeats to reconnect enough to realize that he was being kissed by someone, and that he was giving as good as he got. He opened his eyes tentatively, not sure who he should be expecting to greet him. The silky black hair and amazingly light, jade colored eyes were something of a surprise. He chanced a glance at Ms. Thornburrow and Healer Webber, and noted with some amusement that they were wringing their hands – each other's hands, mind you – while clinging to one another.

Harry closed his eyes again and lost himself in the wondrous sensation of his first, really real, passionate kiss. The fact that the girl he was kissing reciprocated was a bonus. He would have liked to go on for eternity and a little longer, but Ms. Thornburrow seemed to feel that things had gone far enough.

"Okay Rebecca, I believe that the danger has passed, you can let him breath now."

Harry was more than happy to note that Rebecca seemed just as reluctant to see things end as he did, and when they parted it was with a definite lack of enthusiasm. Still, this kiss, though wet, was no where near as creepy and uncomfortable as his last one. In fact, if he were asked to rate it on a scale of one to ten, he was certain to give it a twelve…quite possibly a fifteen. Then again, maybe not. More research was definitely required before he could accurately measure something like this.

Practice makes perfect and all that….

Webber helped the young woman off the bed, and Harry found himself already missing the warmth Rebecca's body had offered him. He watched attentively as she self-consciously righted her clothing and noted that she kept touching her lips unconsciously. He supposed that meant he'd done something right. Well, she wasn't crying at all. That in and of itself was a marked improvement. Ms. Thornburrow stomped by and shoved something in his lap, muttering about teenagers and their hormones, before marching over to Webber to help him with a large…mannequin?

Harry decided that he was better off not knowing and looked to his the bundle in his lap. The familiar silken fabric of his father's invisibility cloak flowed off his legs to pool in the crook of the bedside. Underneath it were a set of his school robes.

"We really need to go Harry." Ms. Thornburrow urged. "Can you walk?"

Harry shrugged and nodded.

She waved him out of the bed as Rebecca set about repairing the room. Webber was floating the life-sized mannequin on the other side of his bed, and Harry was more than a little shocked to see that it looked just like him…cast, bruises, and all. Ms. Thornburrow grew impatient and gently tugged Harry from the bed. In one swift motion she threw the invisibility cloak over his head and shoved his school robes into his arms.

"Get changed on the way, we need to leave." She gripped his shoulders and steered him towards the door. "Is he calm enough to side-along?"

The healer passed his wand in Harry's general direction and just stared as the results came in.

"Amazing." Webber mumbled. "Simply amazing."

"Well? Can he?" Ms. Thornburrow demanded. This was enough to shake Webber free from whatever trance he'd found himself in.

"Huh? Oh, yes." The healer shook his head in disbelief. "He's completely healed himself of his most recent injuries."

"Well done, Harry." Ms. Thornburrow nodded distractedly as she turned to the lovely young woman fidgeting by the door. "Rebecca, please contact the High Warden and tell him to expect us in thirty minutes. Tell him that Harry has consented to the Heritage Ritual…"

She paused and looked back to Harry, which in and of itself was a nice gesture. He nodded and she rolled onward like a stone falling down a mountain.

"…and that we will also need to have both Lord Black's will and Baron Potter's will on hand." Harry's confusion must have been apparent, because the solicitor simply smiled as Rebecca spoke into something small on her wrist. "Sirius made it very clear that should you accept the adoption, and if he wasn't here to care for you, he wanted you emancipated. Since your official time of birth is in…."

She waved her wand and two separate times and dates appeared in the air between them.

"…thirteen hours and twenty seven minutes, both Wizarding and Muggle laws will be met when I file the paper work tomorrow afternoon."

"The High Warden anxiously awaits our arrival, Ms. Thornburrow." Rebecca stole another glance at Harry and blushed demurely. "I was instructed to tell you that his Lordship, the Regent, was already in attendance."

"Good to know." The solicitor nodded and gave the room one last once over before moving to the door. "Stick close to Rebecca, Harry. We need to finish a little bit of paperwork and make certain that everything is in order before we leave. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes at best. I'll be sending you on to Gringotts with Rebecca, while we tie up the loose ends."

She paused and looked unerringly at Harry's face.

"Under no circumstances are you to leave her side Harry. Regardless of what might happen, Dumbledore or Death Eaters, _stay_ with Rebecca." Her attention shifted to the dark haired girl beside him. "At the first sign of trouble, you port-key to the safe-house, summon assistance and then apparate directly to Gringotts. It will take them time to track you, which will give you more time to escape."

"And you?" Harry's disembodied voice asked.

"We have our own keys, Harry. At the first sign of trouble we will scatter, and draw whoever it might be as far away from you as we can. With any luck, we won't need the precautions, but one way or another we'll meet up with you at Gringotts."

"Okay." Harry nodded. The fact that they had a means of escape gave him some peace of mind. He didn't think his luck would hold, at least not after that mind-blowing kiss…his lips were still tingly! But if the Universe was at all just, he would be able to walk out of here tonight without any hassles.

He would be happy to note that the Universe was in a generous mood, and the Death Eaters didn't arrive for a good twenty minutes after he left. The Order took another fifteen to show and by that time, the poor lifeless homunculus of Harry Potter had slipped into a coma and was summarily assassinated by terrorists. The Universe tossed Harry a bonus for all of the positive Karma he'd built up, and one of the brave nurses that survived the assault just managed to tear the Death Eater mask off Severus Snape's face right as a young photographer snapped a career building photo.

By morning every news media outlet in England and throughout most of Europe were running the image, and Dumbledore's Potions Master had become public enemy number one. Harry would be heard to comment at a later date that the greasy git had finally achieved the notoriety he'd always hungered for. It was just too bad that it wasn't for his prowess in potions or for his abilities as a wizard.

Oh, well. One can't have everything in life, now can they?

Albus Dumbledore and a number of other members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived at the Dursley's less than two minutes after Harry had been taken away by the Muggle ambulance. The neighbors were out in force, chattering like squirrels behind their hedges and covertly spying through their curtains as Vernon and Dudley Dursley were being restrained by the police. The guards that Albus had set on the house were missing, but thankfully there was no apparent damage that would indicate a magical attack, so Albus was hoping that young Nymphadora and Mundungus Fletcher were executing their duties to guard Harry.

As distressing as these signs were, more upsetting still was the cold and violent reception he received from the Dursleys. When the Order arrived on the scene, Vernon went frothing mad and, after breaking free of his imprisonment at the hands of the police, he came at Albus swinging for all he was worth. The poor headmaster was whacked a goodly number of times, with both fist and metal handcuff, before he was rescued by Kingsley Shacklebolt. He still had the bruises and bumps to show for it. Dudley, seeing his father winning ground against the "Freaks" stepped in and added his boxing talents to the mix against Arthur Weasley. None of them, much to their shame, even thought to cast a spell during their initial rout. It was a forgivable lapse all things considered - especially when Mad-Eye Moody confirmed their fears…

…Harry Potter, along with all of his personal belongings, was missing.

The Order of the Phoenix was in a state of panic. Albus' alarms had alerted him that Harry's life was in danger, and that had drawn them to Privet Drive where they were met with excessive violence from Harry's relations. Vernon refused to speak with them, and had gone so far as to pull a policeman's gun on Remus Lupin with the intent to kill. Remus, while not overly knowledgeable with many Muggle customs and their eccentric devices, was very familiar with the purpose and intent of a firearm. A shot was fired and subsequently deflected by a hastily erected shield charm. The bullet ricocheted into the air, killing a rather large crow.

This of course set the whole situation aflame.

Paul Polkiss, passing the Dursley home on his way to work, saw the police cars and, upon seeing Vernon shooting at a number of abnormal people, drove to the rescue. His mad dash onto the perfectly manicured lawn had him running over Mad-Eye Moody's wooden leg as the retired Auror dove out of the way. This of course led to many a curse being fired at the man's rather expensive automobile – leaving it a battered, purple, oozing mess. Once he abandoned the safety of his car, Mr. Polkiss was transfigured into so many different animals that it was going to take the Healers of St. Mungos a very long time to sort him all out.

Dudley, seeing magic being employed dove behind his mother to avoid justice, but Molly Weasley retaliated before he could escape – finishing the transfiguration that Hagrid had begun five years before. Petunia, seeing her son become a hog, snapped and took up arms against Molly. She did fairly well, up until Hestia Jones hexed her legs backwards and vanished her mouth completely. Retribution, for years of Harry's mistreatment, was dealt with a vengeance the headmaster hadn't expected.

Vernon, by some miracle, avoided being cursed too badly…at least up until he tackled Emmaline Vance and Tuli Fenmore. During the scuffle, he managed to grope both young women quite a bit, and they responded with such fury that it took Arnold Peasegood's Accidental Magic Reversal Squad over three hours to sort him out.

The Muggle authorities on hand were out of their element, and by the time a hysterical Mrs. Number Seven's caterwauling about terrorists finally spurred them into action, much of the conflict had already been resolved in the Order's favor. With guns drawn and another volatile situation brewing, Albus tried to take control. He was doing a pretty good job up until the point that Cornelius Fudge and a squadron of Aurors flooded Little Whinging looking to arrest Harry Potter once and for all. Fudge knew he was going out, and it was obvious that he was intent to see Harry's wand snapped before he was ousted from the Ministry. It would of course be his last official act as Minister, and he would be dodging allegations of being a Death Eater sympathizer for a very long time to come.

The police officers, seeing more people popping out of thin air, started shooting. The local media was called in as the battle escalated, and the Statute of Secrecy was hanging by a thread. All in all, it was a catastrophe of nightmarish proportions – which was why the Ministry Obliviators from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes were called in soon after. If this wasn't a catastrophe, then no one was sure what really was.

The fact that Rita Skeeter and Bozo made an appearance on the scene only rubbed salt in an old man's wounds. It was safe to say that Albus Dumbledore had quite a few wounds to choose from too.

Harry had been taken away in an ambulance and his guards were missing, a legal battle with the Ministry was eminent over the actions at Privet Drive, his reputation was at an all time low, and for the first time in one hundred and thirty years Albus found himself needing to post bail. It was, at the very least, terribly embarrassing and troublesome. The only balm for his injured pride was that Vernon Dursley had been set to rights and was currently sharing a cell with Remus and Alastor. It was the headmaster's fervent hope that Alastor showed some wisdom and restrained Remus from doing anything foolish to Harry's uncle. The last thing they needed was to have Lupin tagged as a menace to society.

Harry would never forgive him if that happened.

Albus was brought out of his thoughts as the door to his holding cell opened, revealing an extremely agitated Minerva McGonagall. His guard smiled and gestured to the hall.

"You're free to go Professor."

"That you, Matthew." He smiled cordially in turn and stood with what little dignity he had left. "Please give my best to Anne."

"Will do, Professor." The guard smiled sympathetically.

The moment he had received his wand and they were free from their guard, the Deputy Headmistress rounded on him intent on giving him the third degree. He held up his hand to forestall her questions.

"Later Minerva. We have other more pressing matters to deal with right now. Have the others been released?" He asked evenly.

"Not yet. I thought it best to handle you first."

The aged professor nodded and greeted many of the Duty Aurors with a warm smile as he passed.

"If I may impose upon you yet again Minerva, please see to it that they return to Headquarters once they are released. Have them maintain the story we provided the Ministry should they run into any reporters. We will debrief as soon as I arrive."

"What will you be doing?" Minerva asked hesitantly.

"Harry Potter is hospitalized somewhere, the wards on Privet Drive have fallen, and we have two Order members missing as well." He sighed and unconsciously smoothed his beard. "I must see if I can make up for the time our beloved Minister has cost us."

"Ex-Minister." Minerva smiled grimly.

"Another complication to worry over." Albus sighed and wondered what he had done wrong to earn such a day. "Please carry on Minerva, time is of the essence."

She started to turn away but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"It might be prudent to see about Alastor and Remus next, Minerva. Vernon Dursley was placed in a cell with them."

"I understand." Her face was fighting a dark smirk, but one look at Albus' weary face replaced her mirth with deep concern. "Please be careful."

Albus nodded as they parted and moved out of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, on towards the lifts. Before he could reach the elevator, he found his way blocked by a very ill-tempered Amelia Bones.

"Good evening Amelia."

"Oh shut up and follow me, you bloody great twonk!"

She didn't wait for his compliance; she simply stormed off towards her office. The headmaster sighed and did as she commanded. It had been a very long time since someone had been as…colorful in their demands; but rather than say anything, Albus let it slide. The last thing he needed right now was the head of the DMLE more upset than she obviously was.

Could this day really get any worse?

He groaned and shook his head. The simple fact that he had even asked the question ensured that it would.

As he passed the threshold of her office, Madame Bones slammed her door with enough force to cause a number of pictures and plaques to fall and shatter. With a wave of his wand everything was whole and in place again. She seemed not to notice or care as she rounded on him.

"Just who in the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm Albus…." He started pleasantly.

"DAMN IT! DON'T PLAY WITH ME ALBUS!" She roared.

"I assure you Amelia that is the least of my intentions." His smiling face became serious and professional. "Please tell me what has happened to upset you so, and then we can see what can be done to rectify the situation."

"Do you realize what your little stunt in Surrey has accomplished?"

"While I do not know all of the specifics, I can surely guess." The headmaster sighed and deflated a bit. "What is the damage of this disaster?"

"Timothy Alda is happy to finally be able to use his 'War of the Worlds' scenario, so the images the Muggles broadcast on the telly are dealt with. The entire neighborhood had to be obliviated by squads under invisibility cloaks in order to avoid a panic and, after my initial investigation, the sitting Wizengamot have decided to let the Dursley's take the heat from the Muggles."

Albus paled.

"Is that wise?"

"You are the last person to be questioning someone's wisdom today, Albus." Amelia growled. "The Dursley's were all too willing to tell us how you forced them to take in Harry Potter against their will. After hearing them rant about Harry for the better part of the afternoon, it was decided to explore their treatment of Mr. Potter. It only took a little encouragement via veritaserum and a memory enhancing charm for them to give us a detailed account of their many abuses of the Boy-Who-Lived."

Albus paled even more.

"How bad was it?"

"You should know, Albus. You helped hide the evidence of their abuse from time to time didn't you?"

"It was for the best Amelia." He was proud that his voice didn't shake. The rest of him wanted to tremble and quake.

"How in Hecate's name could you deem shoving a little boy into a cupboard under the stairs for the best? How can you possibly justify the hell that Harry Potter suffered at their hands, _for the best_?"

"I am not at liberty to explain my reasons, Amelia." This was apparently not the thing to say, as the head of the DMLE rounded her desk.

"Then can you please explain to me why and how two of my best Aurors have come to belong to your little group of vigilantes?"

"Which Aurors are we talking about Amelia?"

"Fine! If that's the way you want to do this, then that is the way we'll do this." She stood and pointed her wand at the old wizard. "Albus Dumbledore, you are under arrest for misappropriation of Ministry personnel, obstruction of justice, child endangerment, and a lengthy number of other charges that have absolutely nothing to do with your earlier arrest of trespassing, Muggle baiting, and endangerment of the Statute of Secrecy. Will you come quietly, or am I going to have to add resisting arrest to the list?"

Albus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then handed her his wand.

"That won't be necessary Amelia. Please sit down and I will tell you what I can."

"That's not going to be near good enough Albus. With Fudge ousted, and Umbridge still recovering in St. Mungos, my name has been put forward for Interim Minister. You're going to tell me everything you know so that I can pull this government out of the crapper Fudge put us in, or so help me I'm going to haul your arse back to that holding cell. Are we CLEAR?"

"Indubitably." He sighed. "Can you guarantee the security of this office, or would it be possible to go some place that you know to be safe?"

The formidable woman nodded and waved her wand in a number of complex motions for over five minutes.

"There. That's as secure as I can make it."

"May I?" He nodded to his wand. She shook her head.

"After all that I've heard about your exploits today? I think not. I feel safer letting your wand sit right where it is, thank you very much."

Albus settled back into his chair and folded his hands in his lap.

"Then I am afraid that I must insist that you return me to my cell."

This change in attitude seemed to unsettle her.

"It's that delicate?" She asked.

"More than you can readily know. Do you think that I would gamble everything that I have achieved on anything less than the stability and future of the entire wizarding world, Amelia? Our entire way of life is in the balance here."

She looked thoughtful for a moment before motioning for him to stand.

"Fine. We'll go someplace safe." She relented. "But your wand stays with me until I am satisfied."

"That seems fair." Albus stood and moved towards her floo. "Where shall we retire to?"

"Malcolm's Den."

Albus gathered a pinch of floo powder and in a flash of green flames appeared in a tastefully decorated study. Amelia appeared right behind him with her wand still bared and motioned for him to sit. He complied immediately and watched as she rounded her desk to sit in a plush leather chair. With a flick of her wand the floo connection was disabled and secure.

"Now what is so damned important?"

"Where shall I begin?" Albus sighed and folded his hands in his lap. "It is my belief that the Ministry has been compromised by Voldemort's followers. He has had a year to recruit under Cornelius' nose or, if my suspicions are correct, with the Minister's active participation."

If Amelia were shocked by the revelation, then she showed no sign of it beyond motioning him to continue.

"Rumors of collusion and having Death Eater sympathies are already making the rounds. Tell me something about your organization."

Albus sighed and nodded.

"Last year was a slanderous campaign to deny the existence of a very real threat, and due to that fact I had to take steps to ensure that I had people within the Ministry to gather intelligence."

"Why you?"

"Because it was a mantle passed to me by my predecessor after the defeat of Grindelwald." At her look of confusion he clarified. "The Order of the Phoenix has existed since just after the founding of Camelot. It is the check and balance against a corrupt government and the forces of darkness. It was this group that removed Cornwall from power and defeated Magnus the Malignant during the Black Plague. I have been a member for over one hundred years, and am now the leader of said organization. I took binding oaths to ensure the safety of our community, and I must see that those oaths are honored at whatever cost to myself and others."

Amelia looked disgusted for a moment. Her disgust turned ponderous, as she settled herself back into her chair and steepled her fingers.

"So, Kingsley and Tonks have joined your little group to fight the good fight." She shook her head. "Are they bound by the same oaths?"

"Kingsley is, but young Nymphadora has yet to bind herself." Albus conceded.

Ameila growled and slammed her fist on the desktop.

"Damn you Albus! Do you realize the position you've put me in?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Kingsley's one of the best men on the force; a senior Auror with a good chance to be Head of the Auror Corps, now that everyone's pushing me to be the Interim Minister. He is an invaluable resource that I cannot afford to lose. But with your little stunt Surrey, he's going to be on suspension until an internal investigation has been completed. That means that he's off the rotation for at least two weeks and, considering the fact that Rufus Scrimgeour will be heading up the Internal Affairs Board, Shack will be lucky to keep his job! As it is, Kingsley will be desk bound and on probation for the rest of the year."

Albus closed his own eyes and took a deep breath.

"And young Nymphadora?" Dumbledore shifted nervously when Amelia started growling. "What happened?"

Amelia shot from her seat in a rage.

"THAT'S WHAT I'D LIKE TO KNOW YOU BARMY OLD TWIT!" Albus weathered her anger with a forced calm. "That girl is like a daughter to me. I recruited her straight out of Hogwarts! I convinced her not to go into modeling or some other mindless hack job that would have wasted her talents, and now you've got her sneaking around my back! Not only is she one of my most brilliant up and coming, she's a resource that is just as, if not more, valuable than Shacklebolt. Now, I want to know what the hell she was doing for you, on her day off, that has her MIA!"

"MIA?" Albus truly started to tremble then.

"Yes! As in: Missing In Action!" She fell back into her seat heavily. "From what I understand, she was supposed to have been watching Potter's house. And since he was sent to East Surrey Hospital, just south of Redhill – I can only assume the worst, since Death Eaters attacked a room there and pretty much blew up half the hospital! Now stop wasting my time and tell me what I want to know damn it! What was Nymphadora Tonks doing for you that involved Harry Potter?"

Albus felt his stomach bottom out.

"She was guarding Harry Potter."

Amelia's eyes narrowed.

"And why in the world was she doing that?"

"Come now Amelia, after the events in June it should be fairly clear why." Albus absently chided. His blood pressure began to rise as a number of possibilities began to fall into place.

Amelia chose to restructure her questions.

"How long has she been guarding him? And since you've broached the subject, will you please explain to me your insight into the events that transpired in the DoM?"

Albus began smoothing his beard as he collected his thoughts. It was all he could do not to summon his wand to him and head out in search of Harry.

"May I ask if Harry was in the room that was attacked?"

"He was." Amelia said gravely.

"And his disposition?" The headmaster's voice caught in his throat as Amelia closed her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath.

"The room, everyone in it, and everything three floors above and below, were obliterated by Fyrghul's Firestorm. The Muggles are running with the IRA as their main suspects."

It was here that Albus finally broke. The future was lost to them, Tom Riddle had won. One of Riddle's "hands" had killed Harry. The spell unleashed a flare of concentrated heat so powerful; it was like dropping a miniature sun in the room. He let the tears flow freely and felt his heart break. It was hard to focus on Amelia's words as she continued, but he forced himself to listen. It was the only way to survive the crushing despair he was fighting against.

"We are uncertain who cast the spell, but there is a rumor that a Muggle got a picture of one of the Death Eaters. We're waiting for our counterparts to track down the photographer. Once the film's been developed and we have a positive match, we'll be hunting the bastard down." Amelia stepped around from behind her desk and laid a hand on the headmaster's shoulder in a weak gesture of comfort. "We'll get him Albus, and when we do he'll get the Veil for sure."

The old wizard shook his head weakly, unable to form a reply.

"Let's get back on track." Amelia rounded her desk again and settled herself in her chair again. "Tell me about Tonks."

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"She, along with a select few, has been watching young Harry since his return from school. She was assigned to sit her watch with Mundungus Fletcher due to a mishap in the past. Fletcher is the Order's eyes and ears among the less savory elements of our society. They were paired on the rotation as a check and balance, in order to make certain that Mr. Fletcher didn't get up to any mischief."

He paused and tilted his head slightly.

"As for the events of June, do you have any specific questions for me?"

"Hundreds." She sighed.

"I am afraid that I don't have the time to answer hundreds of questions at the moment Amelia." He said apologetically.

"And why is that Albus? Do you have a pressing engagement with the Board of Governors?" It was a cheap shot, full of scorn; Albus did his best not to answer in kind.

"Because, Madame Bones, Harry Potter is dead. He was the child of prophesy, and subsequently the one person in the entirety of our world that had a chance of defeating Lord Voldemort." It was evident that Albus was starting to get agitated, enough so that his patience was becoming frayed. "With Harry gone, there is no one to stop the Dark Lord. That does not however mean that I will not stand in his way for as long as this old body holds breath."

Amelia leaned back into her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Merlin love a duck, Albus! What have you done? If Harry Potter was our one true hope against Voldemort, then what are we supposed to do now?" She shook her head and clutched her trembling hands together, obviously trying to refrain from cursing the Headmaster of Hogwarts on the spot.

"This is not a time for recriminations, Amelia!" Dumbledore bristled. "There are plans and decisions to be made if we are to save what we can from Voldemort."

"Save what we can?" Amelia growled. "Save what we can! Mister Dumbledore, I will be completely honest with you. This whole sordid mess stinks worse than Knockturn Alley in August. As it stands, I should toss you into a cell and throw away the key. Your manipulative hands are so bloody…Circe's Girdle! I know that you're still hiding a coven's worth of secrets from me, in spite of the danger we're facing!"

"I will not sit here and endure your badgering!" Albus' hand swept out to summon his wand, but found himself suddenly bound by magic chains. A single breath later his whole body was being shocked with a mild pain curse.

"You will sit and endure everything I throw at you, you scheming old bastard!" Amelia seethed. "Let me be completely clear on this one point, Headmaster: I will not let anyone else die for your bloody hubris! Potter was the last! Do you hear me? THE LAST!"

Dumbledore had no choice but to nod. It was the only part of his body that had the freedom to move at the moment.

"I cannot and will not roll over and accept defeat. Voldemort has taken too much from me to fall to pieces, and I will not have you becoming the voice of Doom that sends the wizarding world spinning into the toilet screaming in panic. Unless you cooperate with me fully, I will be forced to open an investigation in order to get the answers to all my questions. It will be invasive, very thorough, and most likely have a great deal of media coverage. And I can guarantee that it will not just affect your life and reputation. I'll have everyone in your little Order brought up on charges and sitting in a Ministry holding cell until the Queen herself makes me release them. Answer my questions or don't – I could honestly care less. In the end I'll get what I want, Dumbledore, and the most it will cost me is some overtime pay for my best and brightest. The choice is yours."

She moved her wand towards a small picture of her niece. Albus wondered over the gesture but decided to focus his attention back on her instead. He was between a rock and a hard place, with only one real avenue open to him. Full disclosure was not an option. Interim Minister or not, putting all of the information at his disposal into her hands was just borrowing more trouble. Perhaps he could give her enough to run with and he could discreetly guide her from the wings.

"At this point I'm willing to be polite and open about things, Albus; if only to honor Mr. Potter's memory. He became somewhat important to my niece after the debacle of Umbridge's interference last year. But know up front, this window of courtesy is rapidly closing on you. When it does, I will have you in a cell faster than you can fart. Do you understand me?"

"Where shall we begin?" He asked heavily.

"Let's start with the contents of the prophesy."


	5. God of Memories 00

God of Memories Prologue

Palace of the Daimyo of Fire

The sake was left untouched in their saucers as the Daimyo of Fire looked over at the shinobi from Konohagakure no Sato and his gathered Fire Lords. He looked at each in turn, noting their faces and the emotions that they were hiding, until he came to rest again on the face of the middle aged shinobi across from him. The man's face was stony and from the number of scars that decorated his skin, had weathered countless battles in the name and for the security of the Fire Country. He and his companion weren't the power behind Konohagakure, but he was _a power_.

"Are you certain of this plan?"

"As certain as we can be where the bijuu are concerned, Amanashi-sama." The man gestured to the mission proposal in front of the Daimyo. "As you've read, we are behind in this game of escalation. Kumo to the northeast has already succeeded in sealing the Nibi into a child. If reports are to be believed, Suna has also bound the Ichibi to the Kazekage's youngest son and Iwa is hunting both the Sichibi and the Hachibi. We can no longer remain complacent, nor can we hope that our historical enemies will sit idly by and let these weapons go unused."

"I see your point, but I have reservations about the path we are walking to remain current in this arms race."

"So noted, Amanashi-sama." The sound of the second man's voice was colder and harder than the first. Like his companion, he too had seen countless battles, and if the first shinobi was made of stone – this man was made from cold, hard steel. "However, if we do not walk this dark path, how many of our children will suffer when Kumo sends the Nibi to recover the Byakugan that the Raikage covets so much? What will happen when Suna decides that it wants to expand its borders to include River Country? A weapon made, cannot remain unused forever, regardless of our personal desires."

"But we are talking about sacrificing an innocent to house the demon, and then raising it to be a soulless weapon. How can that be considered moral?"

"Please forgive my bluntness, Amanashi-sama, but morality has no bearing on the safety and protection of this country. We have used assassination as a deterrent since before I was born, be it man, woman, or child." The second ninja remarked coldly. "When a threat rises against our nation, we deal with it: professionally and permanently, without concern about the morality of the act."

The shinobi gestured again to the mission brief, before continuing.

"As it stands, we have a volunteer from ANBU willing to provide a child. She understands the sacrifice that must be made to keep this land and its people safe. She is willing to do her duty for the sake of the Fire."

"And what does the Hokage have to say about this?" Amanashi-sama eased back on his heels. He knew the outcome of this discussion already, but was unwilling to fully commit just yet. The second ninja scowled briefly before quickly composing himself. Yet, it was not he who answered, but Lord Shinozuki – the man who had brought this proposal before the other Lords of Fire.

"The Yondaime has expressed many of the same concerns that you have, but the Council of Elders as well as your Lords, have convinced him that this course is in the best interests of Fire Country."

Amanashi sighed quietly and bowed his head in thought. He knew what that meant as well – Minato had been railroaded into accepting this project by the old farts on the Council; just like he was being railroaded by the Fire Lords sitting around the his table.

"I desire checks and balances on this weapon, as well as monthly reports on his progress. If we cannot control the Jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi no Kitsune, then I must insist that we have a way to neutralize the potential threat it, and those like it, will be to Fire Country and its people."

"Understood Amanashi-sama. It shall be as you command." The first shinobi bowed deeply to the young Daimyo of Fire Country, prompting everyone else in the room to follow his example. Amanashi refused to acknowledge them as he stood and left the room, he chose instead to focus on swallowing the bile that rose in his throat.

Nothing good would come of this. He knew that and it made him shiver to the depths of his very soul.

********

October 07

The Valley of Fire was one hundred and fifty kilometers south of Otafuku Gai, and it was here that Danzou and his company of fifty Root ANBU stopped. The Valley was surprisingly well forested considering its main inhabitant, yet even still there was a heavy stench of unnaturalness in the air that unsettled the emotionless member of Root. Danzou pressed their guide forward with a rough shove, and the trapper stumbled and fell to the loamy earth. The poor old man had supposedly stumbled across the den of the great demon ten years previously and upon hearing Danzou's most generous offer of his weight in gold he allowed himself to be bought.

It is said that every man has his price. The trapper was wondering, and not for the first time, if he'd sold himself too cheaply. The clenching in his gut and the heavy miasma of terror that suddenly assaulted the group told him that he had. When he saw the ethereal figure floating from the foggy tree line, clad in a wispy silver kimono, he knew that no amount of gold was worth this moment of supreme horror. Had he encountered the unnaturally beautiful woman at any other time in his life, he would have counted himself blessed. But looking upon the visage before him, with the fading light of dusk turning the sky to blood and gold, all he could do was pray to his ancestors for a quick and relatively painless end.

When her close-set, golden eyes turned to him, he felt all his sins rise to mind. He began to weep openly, and fell to his knees before the white-haired spirit begging for her forgiveness for trespassing. He felt the shinobi at his back retreat as she glided forward to stand before the trembling man. An elegantly lacquered fingernail traced the scraggly beard along his jaw, pausing to lift his chin so that he could look into her ageless red eyes. He was surprised to see sympathy and understanding reflected there, and it served to ease his quaking bones. He had very little time to express his shock when she kissed his brow, for the instant her lips left his skin, she snapped his neck.

The otherworldly woman gently laid the man out and positioned his body to look as if he were sleeping. As she stood, her eyes looked to the stars for a long moment before settling back on the man. She smiled softly and snapped her fingers, igniting his body instantly. The golden flames consumed the corpse in a heart beat. Danzou watched this all impassively from his position deep within the ranks of his men. His face was expressionless, as if he had been carved from steel.

"I greet you, Danzou of Konohagakure, though you come to my lands uninvited and with ill intent." She inclined her head politely, but made no other move.

Danzou made no sound as his fingers twitched in silent code. The first line of shinobi surrounding him fanned out, creating a crescent wall of flesh and steel. The majestic figure raised her thin, but perfect, eyebrow at the display and smiled indulgently at the ninja threatening her.

"I suppose that any offer of tea and simple conversation will be declined then?" Danzou again said nothing – instead eight Seal Masters and three Onmyoji stepped forward brandishing a number of ofuda heavy with seals. "Such rudeness in the world today." The woman sighed and shook her head. "There was a time when your kind knew the elegance of manners and propriety."

Her mouth quirked in a fox-like grin, and she stared at Danzou through her eyelashes.

"Then again, you are shinobi. It is to be expected that you are to be more a man of action than your predecessors - all pomp and professionalism." The woman sighed and dismissed the man before her with a negligent wave. "Your plans are transparent to me, Danzou of Konohagakure. I have delved the future and seen their failure; you bring nothing but blood and sorrow to this land with your actions this night. I will play my part in this farce but know that before you die, your name will be held with nothing but contempt and the power you have so fervently sought will wither and die on the vine in front of your very eyes."

The woman's eyes narrowed and began to glow like the coals of a bonfire. This was the signal for action amongst the shinobi. A brace of kunai and a storm of barbed chains sought out the woman's flesh, only to meet nothing but air and fog. The Onmyouji began their spells and the Seal Masters drew forth their scrolls, laying a perimeter of wards to bind the woman to the immediate area. The net of magic fell around them, but of the woman there was no sign. At least not until a blood red fog began to drift around the ankles of the group.

Danzou and a handful of others, including the Seal Masters and Onmyoji, leapt into the trees at the first sign of the fog. The unlucky fools that the haze touched could only scream in agony as their feet were consumed by the vapor. The woman's sultry laugh echoed throughout the clearing, taunting Danzou amidst the cries of the dying below him. The old war hawk could only watch as the crimson fog approached the young kunoichi who'd volunteered her unborn child as the Jinchuriki. To his amazement it bent and spun around her, without touching or coming near.

"Let it not be said that the Kyuubi no Kitsune is devoid of compassion." The woman appeared behind the trembling girl and lifted her long black tresses to her nose. She inhaled deeply and smiled at the kunoichi's rigidity. "I will not take your life, child, though the Celestial Court knows that I should. Kodomo-no-Inari, Jizo, and Kishi-Bojin will judge you one day; make certain that you are a worthy mother to the girl in your womb, lest karma overtake you in your idiocy."

The Kyuubi no Kitsune's tails appeared like white fire around the young woman, completely obscuring her from the view of her companions. When the tails receded, the pregnant woman and her unborn child were gone. Danzou finally cracked as the linchpin in his machinations was ripped from his grasp. He roared and launched himself, sword raised, at the mystical entity with all the rage and fury he could muster.

There was a blinding flash followed by a deafening roll of thunder that blinded the shinobi and their aides. When their eyes cleared of the spots, Danzou was curled in a fetal ball at the feet of the Kyuubi no Kitsune. The earth immediately around him was scorched black and, to the horror of his subordinates, his entire right arm had been vaporized. When he rolled onto his back, it was also apparent that the skin on pretty much his entire right side had been melted and burnt as well.

The stench of seared flesh was heavy in the air as the Kyuubi no Kitsune stared down at Danzou with a stony expression. She wasn't moved by his screams of agony, nor his pleas for death, instead she simply motioned for one of the Onmyoji to come before her. The young wizard leapt from his branch and knelt before the bijuu in human form.

"Know that Konohagakure and all of Fire Country will suffer for this affront. I am the Kyuubi no Kitsune, known to my foes as the Kyuubi no Youko. I am Lord of the Bijuu, the Queen of Nine Flames. I gave unto your ancestors this land and my protection from those that would destroy them. Your impudence must be punished." Her voice was emotionless, but her eyes were aflame. "Tell your Hokage that I come for restitution, and let the weight of this failure scour his soul. He may prepare as he will, but three days from now, I will have my just due for Danzou's pride."

The young man at her feet nodded and watched nervously as her tails wrapped themselves around him in much the same way that they had the young kunoichi. In a flash of white flames, both he and Danzou disappeared. The Kitsune no Kyuubi turned her attention to the remaining mortals in her realm and allowed her body to grow. The transformation itself caused more than a few of the ninja to kill themselves, rather than face the horrible death that they knew was awaiting them.

The others could only watch numbly as the woman's white hair became blood red fur. Death would take them, but not until the Kyuubi was certain that their minds had been shattered and their souls scarred for their attempt to leash her power.

*********

October 08

The time for accusations and finger pointing would come later. Minato and Old Man Sarutobi made certain that they had each and every name, listed and secured in triplicate for the day of retribution. The problem now was that they needed to survive in order to see that day come. That in and of itself was going to be something of a miracle to pull off. Thankfully, they had been working on the solution from the moment their networks had gotten wind of Danzou's little weapons program.

It would cost them, but the lives of the many definitely outweighed the lives of the few in this case. Martial law had been instated and many of the Council that had pushed for the Jinchuuriki program were under house arrest. What forces they could recall, had been recalled, and recon teams were tracking the bijuu's slow, unwavering progress north. The only thing that they needed now was a solution to the problem of who was going to be empowering the seal, and who would become the Jinchuuriki. As one could probably guess, the debate between the former Hokage and his successor was quite fierce and had been raging since Danzou and the Onmyoji had appeared in Minato's office.

Now that their greatest fears had been realized, it was a battle between youth and wisdom. Either way, both the Sandaime and Yondaime were setting themselves up for martyrdom – but it was looking like the Old Goat was going to win out this last and most important round.

"Your sister is in labor, Minato. You have a duty not only to lead the people of Konoha, but the future generations as well. I have lived a long life. I've seen and done many things. My legacy is contained in both my family and the records of my vault. Where is your legacy? What have you seen?"

"Your logic sucks, Old Man." Minato sighed and shook his head. He crossed his arms petulantly and glared at the man sitting across from him.

"You really expected anything less?" Jiraiya snorted from his spot near a window. "The Old Gas Bag wants to go out in a blaze of glory so that all the pretty women will remember him as being a manly man, instead of an old pervert with a crystal ball."

"Aren't we the kettle…" Minato smirked. The Toad Sage flipped him the bird for his attempt at wit.

"Jokes aside children, I will be casting the seal. The question still remains: who will bear the burden of containing the demon?"

"I will."

All eyes turned to the door and stared in shock at the beautiful young mother, seated in a wheel chair. Bundled in her arms was a sleeping newborn with unnaturally blue eyes.

1234567890987654321

October 09

"THEY AREN'T HOLDING, MINATO! WE MUST USE THE SEAL NOW!"

Namikaze Fubuki was an amazing woman. Anyone in Konoha would tell you that. She was as charismatic as her twin brother, and in many ways just as legendary. She was a kunoichi of rare talent, which was why she was on the front lines battling a beast of nightmare and flames only a day after she had given birth to a beautiful baby boy.

"YOU KNOW WE CAN'T! WE'RE NOT NEARLY CLOSE ENOUGH YET!"

As with most shinobi, she and her brother Minato had many secrets; the greatest of which would have made them targets of all the Elemental Countries, as it had their father. She and her son, like her brother standing next to her, were the last of the most noble and powerful line of Kamijin – the God People. It was a name that their family had earned due to the power of their blood and their fierceness in battle. Their father, Yuudai, had been asked by both the Shodaime and Nidaime to be their successor, due to the power of his blood. But Yuudai had been more concerned about protecting his small family and preserving the bloodline that made his family so famous – and sadly, politics had a way of destroying everything a person held dear for the stupidest reasons.

"THEN WE HAVE TO GET CLOSER! **KUCHIYOSE NO JUTSU**!"

Blood. It was one of life's most valuable commodities, and yet people tended to spill it frivolously. For Minato and Fubuki, their special blood had been coveted by every throne and principality known to them, and even some that they did not know of. That very blood was one of the main reasons why the Sandaime had approached Minato to be his successor. After all, the ability to access the collective lifetime of parental and familial memories with perfect clarity was an invaluable skill for any leader.

"FUBUKI!?"

Those blessed few who were graced with the Omoide no Kamishin were prized as both scholars and warriors. The Kekki Genkai passed all knowledge from parent to child at birth and again at death, making the child a living repository of all that their predecessors had learned and experienced. There were no need for scrolls, or intensive instruction for that matter, the knowledge was imbedded within each cell of the inheritor and could be called forth by a number of triggers – and in some extreme cases, by will alone.

"THIS IS AS CLOSE AS WE'RE GOING TO GET, MINATO! GIVE US THE DIVERSION WE NEED TO GET THIS DONE!"

The wielders of the Omoide no Kamishin gave new meaning to the words "Prodigy" and "Genius" – but at the same time, they were so few in number that losing them was truly a harsh blow to the communities they called home. This was why all of Konohagakure would truly feel the loss of Namikaze Fubuki in the months and years ahead. Thankfully, she never saw the Kyuubi's tail and, from the way her body was instantaneously incinerated, she had no time to feel any pain. The great swan that she had summoned resembled nothing less than a fiery phoenix as it plummeted to the earth, leaving a stunned Minato standing astride Gamadairiki, the second in command of the toad clan.

The shock of the impossible moment left the Yondaime Hokage feeling numb and lost, as a part of himself that had always been there was suddenly stripped away. He watched dumbly for an instant as the raging fox demon continued to decimate the ranks of loyal Konoha ninja, as it turned to lash out at Gamabunta, the Toad Boss, who was to his left. It was senseless in a terrible way, more so when the Kyuubi raked a bloody gash across the eye of the giant toad. Minato could see from here that both Jiraiya and the Sandaime were thrown from Gamabunta's back just before the summoned creature disappeared in a great cloud of white smoke. He couldn't track their descent, knowing only that they disappeared into the trees and the burning forest below.

"**ORDERS BOSS?**"

It was something of an honor for Gamadairiki to acknowledge him as his superior and at any other time Minato would have felt flattered. But as he looked at the smoldering corpse of the great swan prince, he didn't really feel like a leader. He only felt like a small frightened child. As he looked up into the smoldering golden eyes of the fox demon, that feeling was magnified a thousand fold.

_I bring retribution and humility to your village, Yondaime. There is an order to all life, and it __**must**__ be respected._

Her sensual voice left his mouth dry and his knees weak, for it held no anger or malice – just Truth. She would come to the gates of Konohagakure no Sato and rain retribution down upon their heads until they were sufficiently humbled; all because of a few power hungry men that didn't know when to say no. When he could no longer stand her gaze, he dropped his eyes and bowed in acknowledgement to the great fox. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Toad Sage bounding back to Konoha on the back of a horse-sized orange toad, with an unconscious Sandaime draped across his lap.

"Sound the retreat Gamadairiki." He looked out at the blazing forests around him and shook his head. "Get us back to Konoha as quick as you can."

*********

October 10

The fading light of day hung about the empty village, casting the stalwart buildings in a magical golden light. The leaves of the forest were red, gold, and brown, and swayed in the cool autumn wind giving the countryside the illusion of being on fire. It was at once peaceful, and yet terribly foreboding. For the rest of his days, Hatake Kakashi would always remember the place of his birth in this light. For a shinobi of his caliber, this was the perfect way to describe his life – alluring and deadly.

He turned his gaze to the south and contemplated the massive figure of the Kyuubi no Kitsune. It sat in the valley between two mountains, patiently waiting for just the right moment to strike. It was eerie to see that engine of destruction just sitting by and watching, tails swaying in the wind. He, like many of his brothers and sisters on the great wall surrounding Konoha, wondered why it simply sat there. What could it be thinking? Kakashi wouldn't get the chance to find out.

"Hatake!" The Copy Ninja turned to see Morino Ibiki standing a ways off. "The Yondaime needs you. Be quick. He thinks the attack will happen really soon."

He moved with all haste, unlike he would in years to come, pushing his top speed and made it to the Hokage's Tower in under seven minutes. What he found in the Hokage's office was nothing short of strange. Jiraiya and the wounded Sandaime he expected, Mitokado Hamura, Utatane Koharu, and Rin weren't out of place either. Uzumaki Kushina was a little bit of a shock, considering the fact that Sensei had always kept his romantic relationship with the ANBU captain hidden, but even her presence in this dark hour was logical in its own way. What had Hatake truly stumped was the fact that the Yondaime was holding a baby…that was just really odd. Well maybe not so much, considering that his sister was pregnant, but then if the baby was here then where was the child's mother? Fubuki-sama should have obviously been here with Magatsu-taicho. All the pieces were there, but lack of sleep and the stress from the demon's suffocating aura made it difficult for the young prodigy to concentrate. The Yondaime's voice drug him from his thoughts before the mental picture could come together.

"Come in Kakashi. We need to be quick about this business if the Leaf is to survive the night." The order was obeyed without hesitation.

"I beg you to reconsider, Minato." The Third was never one to beg but, to Kakashi's surprise, he was doing so now – and from a wheelchair no less.

"The time for debate is long passed, Sandaime. You know my reasons for this better than anyone else, please honor them and protect my legacy as I have asked."

Kakashi had never heard his mentor be this cold before, especially not to the Sandaime. He wasn't sure that he'd ever heard his upbeat and optimistic teacher sound so fatalistic either. It was unnerving to the extreme.

"Rin. Kakashi." The Yondaime motioned for them come near, and both moved to him without question. Each was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "You are the children I will never sire. Live well and look out for each other."

Kakashi looked to Rin and saw that she already had tears running down her cheeks. He opened his mouth, but was immediately cut off as his teacher whirled to face him.

"There is no time to explain or argue, Kakashi. Please simply listen and obey my last requests." The Copy Ninja could only nod, but his frown was evident from behind his mask. "Thank you."

It took precious seconds for the Fourth to gain control of himself but, when he finally did, he lifted the small bundle of blankets up for both to see. Lifting back the blanket revealed the face of an adorable child, and Kakashi could already feel Rin's maternal instincts rising to the fore. It was a dangerous place to be for a single man, let alone one of Kakashi's popularity. The strange thing about this child was the strange seal inked on his forehead. There was no real way to describe it, because every time he tried to focus on it his mind would wander. It was the sign of a powerful genjutsu, and it took quite an amount of discipline for Kakashi not to reveal his Sharingan to unravel the mystery.

"This is Naruto, the Maelstrom of Konoha, my heir and my legacy. Guard him and teach him what he will need to know when the time comes – help him to find the happiness that I cannot be here to provide."

"Since when did you have a kid, Sensei?" Okay, so it wasn't the brightest thing to say – and sure, it seemed like he was channeling Obito at just the wrong moment, but it was a valid question. One that seemed destined to earn him a headache and a concussion.

"I haven't stupid." Minato, Kushina, and Rin rammed a fist onto the top of Kakashi's head staggering him. "Now, straighten up and pay attention! In order to perform a blood adoption by the laws and practices of my clan, I need you two to act as witnesses. What you hear cannot be spoken of outside of this group. If Naruto is to live, then this secret _must_ be protected at all costs!" He settled his gaze on each person in the room, gaining their oaths before nodding and moving on. "We don't have any more time for talk, so let's get on with this."

The Fourth motioned to Jiraiya, passing the baby to the Toad Sage, and pulled a slim silver dagger from the right breast of his robes. Kushina drew her own blade, unique in design to her husband's, yet made from the very same silver. Kakashi had been a student of Seals for close to three years now, and recognized the ritual knives that would spill the couple's blood for the higher, more arcane, ceremonies. As always, it was fascinating to watch Minato-sensei work. There was a sense of confidence that he had about him that was absent in all the other areas of his life. He opened his robe, baring his broad chest and then set to work. Surprisingly, Kushina mimicked his every move, nearly causing all the men in the room to hemorrhage. Had the solemnity of the situation not weighed on their hormones, Kakashi knew that he and Jiraiya would have fainted on the spot.

The blades flashed in the fading light of the evening, with the strokes being made quickly and without hesitation. The symbols for "mind" and "body" were placed on their foreheads and left hands, while they cut the marks for "soul" right over their hearts. The blood seemed to well up, but amazingly it refused to flow.

"Namikaze Naruto, son of my sister's womb, I claim you as my own."

Their voices were eerie as they echoed each other. Each pressed the symbol for "body" in turn against the strange seal on the baby's brow, and the boy jumped and started to wail in pain the moment the hands left the seal.

"I name you Kamijin Naruto, in honor of my sister, our father, and his father." The Fourth's voice was heavy with emotion. This caused Mitokado Hamura and Utatane Koharu to gasp in recognition as Minato pressed his forehead and the symbol of "mind" against the howling child's seal. "Let their legacy burn strong through your veins and guide you in this life."

"I name you Uzumaki Naruto, in honor of my Queen mother, her Queen mother, and her mother's Queen mother." Kushina's voice was even heavier with emotion. This caused Mitokado Hamura and Utatane Koharu to nearly have a coronary on the spot as Kushina pressed his forehead and the symbol of "mind" against the glowing rune on Naruto's brow. "Let their legacy burn strong through your veins and guide you in this life. You are now and shall ever be a Prince of Whirlpool. Forget not the past, but build for a safer future. Gather the lost ships and unite them at the eye of your storm."

With tears in his eyes, Minato took Naruto from Jiraiya and cradled him close to his heart. It was hard to watch for Kakashi, for it brought memories to mind of his own father and the injustice he had borne in the name of honor.

"Your father would have been so proud of you, little one. Ikigami Magatsu was a good friend and a good brother."

This name brought gasps from everyone in the room. How could it not? No one had known the name of Fubuki's hidden paramour, but for it to be someone of such lineage! The last wielder of the Souzoushagan, the Creator Eye, had died not a month before and all had thought the only other Kekki Genkai to outclass both the Sharingan and the Byakugan was lost to Konoha forever. Kushina broke them from their reverie as she embraced Minato and Naruto, kissing both. She had tears in her eyes as she looked down at the crying child.

"I'm sorry you will not know us, my son of my heart, but know that we will watch over you the rest of your days. Go with our blessing and protect this village and all those who are precious to you. Know that you are always loved; mind, body, and soul."

As she spoke the last word, the pair pressed the babe to the seal over their hearts in turn and the room was engulfed in a blinding white light. Kakashi felt something _shift_ in the room, almost like a spiritual wind, before the light faded. Kushina and the Fourth looked a little drained, and the child seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep. Rin rushed up and checked the baby and visibly relaxed when everything seemed okay. Kakashi noted that the weird seal was gone from his forehead, and wondered at its significance.

"It is time. I can feel the Kyuubi moving." Minato motioned to Jiraiya to take the child as Kushina redressed and donned her armor. The Fourth dismissed the Sandaime and his old teammates to the shelters. He looked to Kushina expectantly. "You have the letters?"

"Along with everything else." She held up a heavily sealed scroll. The eldritch markings looked like spider webs from where Kakashi stood.

"Good." He paused and looked at his wife hopefully. "There's no way that I can change your mind?"

"None. She showed me the paths of the future, Minato. Naruto can only survive if I am dead. He is my son now, and I will fight for him until my last breath. Kyuubi-sama is the external threat. While you deal with her, I will be dealing with the many threats from within Konoha herself. My son will live, and his enemies will remember the Red Death in their nightmares for the rest of eternity."

Kushina pulled her husband into a soul-searing kiss, one that went on for a small eternity. When they parted she embraced Kakashi and Rin briefly before disappearing in a flash of red light. That left the only survivors of Team Seven standing alone with their teacher.

"I have taught you all I can, but this battle will not be won with flashy ninjitsu and steel. That is why I am reassigning you both to the shelters."

Kakashi looked ready to protest, but was cut off by a sharp glare from his teacher.

"I do this not to belittle you, but to ensure that someone will live to look after the Sandaime and Naruto. Both are integral to the future survival of this village. Especially Naruto! He is the last of three great lines now, and will not have anyone to protect him from the harshness of this world. I have already placed a great burden on his shoulders, but the one that I have yet to place will surely break him if neither of you are around to guide him. This is an ongoing S-Rank mission for the both of you; one that Sarutobi has promised me will remain active so long as you are willing. I'm pleading, begging, and ordering you, to make sure that Naruto will find happiness."

"You sound as if you've given up!" Kakashi growled.

"No, I haven't given up." He smiled sadly to his young friend. "But there are times when a man has no other choice, but to lay down his life for those that he loves. Obito taught me that. And before you ask, no, there is no one else qualified to do this. Jiraiya is a great seal master, but this is beyond even him."

Kakashi winced and turned away, unable gather enough courage to ask for further clarification on his mentor's plan. It was probably better if he didn't know. He was caught off guard when he felt Minato's arm wrap around his shoulders. He wasn't sure how long they stood there, nor when the tears started to flow, but all too soon for their comfort Minato pulled away. He kissed each of their foreheads and, calling them son and daughter, left the room – never to return again.


	6. Peripetia 01

Peripeteia

A Ranma ½ Epic by Jeffrey Vasquez

Author's Note:

This is dedicated to Gregg Sharp and all the other writers who've inspired me over the years. Thanks guys (and Gals), for bringing a little more light and laughter into my life!

**************

Peripeteia – Chapter 1

Wedding bells are ringing….

**************

"SUNOVA….!"

The Wa of the Tendo home shuddered violently under yet another exclamation of righteous anger. A flight of pigeons took wing at the volume of the livid declaration. The fact that they were five blocks from the Tendo dojo proved just how bad things had gotten. Most pedestrians going this way or that on their busy Tuesday evening paused and looked at the gate of the dojo with deep concern. Survival instincts kicked in and, like the flock of birds, the few people to hear Ranma Saotome's furious cry of outrage ran for the nearest phone to update their insurance policies and to make sure that they had their valuables photographed and well documented.

The confrontation had been going on all day, growing in intensity hour after hour, and the sense of inevitable destruction hanging over the neighborhood thickened inexplicably, causing even more panic. Had the neighbors been witness to the scene unfolding within the Tendo Dojo, they would have been running for the bomb shelters as fast as their puny little legs could carry them.

"WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TA PULL A STUNT LIKE THIS?"

To say that Ranma was a little upset would be like saying a serial killer was socially challenged. No one in the house had ever seen him quite this angry, and for a few of those people…that was saying a lot. Not even Soun's demon head technique produced the level of terror that the young martial artist was oozing at the moment. Still, it was an odd tableau to suddenly walk into – what, with Ranma holding an official looking document in his right hand and displaying a beautiful wedding band on his left for everyone to see. He had woken this morning with Kasumi lying beside him. According to his mother, the beautiful young woman had cared for him since Sunday's confrontation. He was grateful to her, but when he learned why she was doing it….

The throbbing vein on his forehead hadn't stopped pulsing since leaving his room, and luckily for the Tendos cowering opposite him (namely: Soun, Nabiki, and Akane) most of his attention was fixed on a very terrified…panda. The sad thing was he had submerged himself in the Soul of Ice from the get go, and he was still feeling angry.

[I'm just a panda…a nice little panda….]

Ranma's battle aura surged again, causing the hot teakettle to freeze where it sat on the hot plate.

"Too far, old man. You went too far." Ranma growled. "Screw me over all you want, but you leave everyone else outta it. Especially Kasumi."

The young man's eyes narrowed dangerously and the air was filled with deadly intent. Much to his shame and embarrassment, Genma piddled on the floor. Had the others not been so close to losing control of their own bladders at that moment, they would have made a fuss over the mess. The only people in the room not under Ranma's scrutiny frowned in deep disapproval. Kasumi and Nodoka both leveled their own glares the panda's way.

"You are cleaning that up yourself, Husband."

Ranma was too far into the red zone to comprehend the comment. All he saw was another life ruined for his father's stupidity.

"What were you thinking!?" Ranma demanded. Genma could only shrug and shake his furry black and white head. His son's anger seemed to be driven to an even higher level. Ranma gave a new meaning to the words: Cold Fury.

"ANSWER ME, DAMNIT!"

[One Tendo daughter is as good as another.] The black and white bear seemed to realize too late that this was probably not the best thing to admit. Especially when Akane's battle aura sprang to life nearby. Genma scrambled to recover, whipping out a new sign.

[It seemed a good idea at the time?]

The wooden board in the panda's paw shattered with no apparent application of force whatsoever. It could have been Ranma moving faster than the eye could track, but then again with the boy in this state of mind it could have just as easily been something else entirely.

"How could this be a good idea?" Ranma growled and waved the paper in his hand in Genma's face. He shoved the slightly glowing wedding band on his finger under the panda's snout for good measure.

[That was the Master's idea! I had nothing to do with it!]

"I don't care whose idea it was! It was your responsibility to keep it from happening in the first place! Do you have any idea what you've done to Kasumi?" Ranma roared again. "The Amazons are gonna go on the warpath. Not to mention Ukyou. Damn it, Old Man! We'll be lucky if she doesn't start up the call for blood again over this."

Ranma took a deep breath to steady himself and his angry white aura slowly receded to a more controlled level. It was by no means gone, but it wasn't peeling paint and lacquer from the walls and floor any longer.

"You really crossed a line this time old man, and as far as I'm concerned you can deal with the fall out. I ain't holding the bag for you anymore."

The young man shook his head and clenched his fist tightly, grinding and popping the tendons of his hands over his knuckles.

"We're through, Genma. Once I find a way ta settle this mess you've made for Kasumi, it's over between us. Find yerself a new meal ticket; because I ain't gonna tolerate your crap any more."

Nodoka looked up at her son, somewhat startled. It was evident that she wanted to say something, but couldn't bring herself to speak out. Kasumi watched intently as the woman hid her tears from Ranma. Her emotions seemed conflicted as she stared between the man she had married and the package in her lap. Ranma missed the byplay completely, as he stared challengingly into the faces of everyone that seemed ready to dispute his decision. When no one did, his aura slowly disappeared. He turned his attention to Kasumi, and she wasn't surprised to note the sadness hiding behind his angry mask.

"You said the old letch was in his room?" Kasumi nodded and Ranma smiled. She was certain that he was trying to console her. "I'm going to find out about these rings. Don't worry, Kasumi-chan. We'll figure this out."

"I know we will, Ranma-kun." She smiled brightly in return and squeezed his hand. "We Saotomes never lose."

She wasn't sure what made the young man blush – the show of confidence or the fact that she had included herself as a Saotome. Either way, he looked adorable. Kasumi tried to put that thought out of her mind as he disappeared up the stairs. There were other things happening that required her attention at the moment.

Nodoka turned an angry gaze on her husband and when he didn't meet her eye, she snorted in disgust. With an angry flick of her wrist she threw the manila folder in her hands at him and stormed from the room, following Ranma up the stairs. Genma rubbed his furry nose where the package had hit before opening it. The letter that greeted him made his eyes bulge and he seemed to slowly deflate as his wife stalked out of the room. A look of extreme anger passed over the panda's face, and for a moment Kasumi was sure the fool was going to make a scene to "put the woman in her place." She had heard him boast to her father of such on occasion, but in the end Genma collapsed under the weight of her revulsion and Ranma's words.

He wiped up his mess and departed without a word. He was a broken man...well, panda at the moment, but the result was the same. Kasumi knew that she was going to have to clean up after the shoddy attempt, but left it for the moment. She just watched him go in silence, leaving the Tendos alone in the family room for the first time in a very long while. Her father seemed ready to follow and console his friend, but Nabiki grabbed the sleeve of his gi before he could get very far.

"Leave it be, Daddy. We've got other things to discuss."

Soun nodded sadly and settled back into his place. He fumbled nervously with a cigarette, but couldn't get his lighter to ignite. He carefully tucked the nicotine stick back into its package and tiredly rested his face in his palms. The daughters were content to give him some time to collect himself, but eventually it was Nabiki who started the ball rolling.

"I thought you had a deal with Akane, Daddy. No more pushing the engagement until after graduation." Soun nodded but didn't say anything. "So, what's the story? Why go back on that decision?"

Soun shrugged, unable or unwilling to look up. Kasumi watched as Nabiki's demeanor turned very frigid.

"Are you going to say anything, or are you just going to sit there?"

Soun shrugged again, but remained silent.

"This is pathetic."

"Nabiki." Kasumi frowned. Even if it was true, there was no reason to be so caustic. Nabiki shook her head in loathing.

"Not this time, Kasumi. I'm not going to hold back, just to appease your sense of propriety. This has been a long time coming and I intend to say what needs to be said."

Soun began to cry, and to everyone's shock Nabiki's anger slipped its leash. Before she could really understand what was happening, the middle Tendo girl reached over and slapped her father soundly. The tears dried up instantly as the Tendo patriarch palmed his cheek.

"Be a man, damn it! Stop hiding behind your tears!" Nabiki hissed. Disgust warred with frustration on the young woman's face. Kasumi was appalled. She could appreciate and understand her sister's irritation, but she was appalled nonetheless.

"Stop it, Nabiki."

"No! He owes us an explanation for all of this, and I mean to hear it – even if I have to slap him silly to get it out of him."

"Father can explain himself perfectly fine without you or Akane resorting to violence." Both sisters snorted and crossed their arms. "Will you tell us about it father?"

"I'm sorry, Kasumi-chan. I didn't mean for this to happen to you." It was a heartfelt apology and Kasumi couldn't help but nod her acceptance.

"I know father."

"It was supposed to be Akane-chan's hanko on the marriage license."

"And that's supposed to make everything better!" Akane snarled. "How could you even think of doing this to me, Daddy?"

"Well, if you had done as honor demanded in the first place, this would have never happened!"

Kasumi was surprised that her father stood up against the accusation, let alone retaliated. It seemed he was growing a backbone after all. It was nice to see the ghost of the man Soun Tendo had once been, even if the circumstances of his resurrection left much to be desired.

"Honor! What do you know about honor!" Akane demanded. "Is it honorable to hide from the rest of the world and leave your daughters to fend for themselves? Was it honorable to abandon my training after Mom died? Is it honorable to let a perverted little troll molest your children?"

This was getting out of hand.

"Enough, Akane."

"No it's not, Kasumi!" Nabiki interjected. "Stop enabling him! He screwed up and now you are married because of it! There has to be some accountability here."

Kasumi frowned and raised an eyebrow.

"And the two of you feel qualified to judge him? Is that it?"

Nabiki opened her mouth to say something, but caught something serious hiding behind Kasumi's eyes. If this were going to be an accountability session, then it was only fair that their indiscretions be brought to light too. The middle Tendo picked up on this and backed down. Akane, however, wasn't quite as observant as her sister.

"How can you defend him?"

Kasumi folded her hands and looked at her youngest sister calmly.

"I defend him, because he is a human being; subject to making mistakes and errors in judgment."

"You call being married to Ranma an error in judgment?" Nabiki asked.

"No. I call it a circumstance of impatience."

Akane snorted.

"Did I say something funny, Akane?" Both sisters looked at their sibling as if she had grown a new head.

"Yeah. If it hadn't been for their 'impatience' then it would be me who was married to the dumb jerk."

"Please do not refer to Ranma as a 'dumb jerk,' Akane."

"Kasumi's right, Daughter. If you had been nicer to your fiancée…"

"Ex-fiancée." Nabiki smirked. Soun ignored her.

"…things would have gone much better than they did."

"As if I would want them to go better!" Akane sniffed and turned her head upward petulantly. "The pervert can just dry up and die for all I care!"

Kasumi just shook her head and sighed.

"What?" The youngest Tendo demanded. "You're telling me that you want to be married to that…that walking hormone?"

"Your lack of gratitude and immaturity disappoint me, Akane."

"Lack of gratitude?" Akane chuckled darkly. "What have we to thank the great Ranma Saotome for? Repair bills? Maybe a migraine or two?"

Nabiki frowned darkly at Akane, but refused to say anything.

"And lest we forget, the grocery tab." Kasumi shot her baby sister a flat look that was filled with disapproval. "Oh, stop being so naïve, Kasumi. Ranma has been nothing but trouble since day one. What has he really done for us?"

The eldest Tendo sat up without hesitation and began ticking off examples on her fingers.

"He brought our father back from the grave, and gave him something to live for again."

"At the cost of all of our hopes and dreams." Akane countered. Kasumi continued without a pause, ignoring the self-centered proclamation.

"He brought life back into this old house."

"And drove what little peace this neighborhood knew into the toilet."

"He made me happy."

Akane's counterstrike dried up on her lips and died a horrible, flaming, death. Kasumi pressed onward.

"Tonight's dinner and, if I'm not mistaken, the outfits that you and Nabiki are wearing, were purchased with money made off of the fight Ranma had with one of his last challengers. Am I right?"

Nabiki nodded.

"Then there is of course the out come of the Chardin engagement. Who knows where you and I might have been without Ranma stepping in for us. And lest we forget Akane, by all accounts, _you_ would be dead if hadn't been for Ranma."

Kasumi paused as her sisters shivered at the two very disturbing circumstances they had been saved from. Akane recovered first and stabbed a finger at her older sister.

"That last one doesn't count! If it hadn't been for Ranma, Kiima and her group wouldn't have even come here!"

"True. But, the fact remains that on more than one occasion, Ranma has risked his own life to save yours. This family owes him…_you_ owe him, a debt that cannot be repaid – and I for one refuse to be party to your disrespect." She turned to her father and bowed deeply. "Thank you father, for the opportunity to express my gratitude to Ranma for all of his kindness. I will do my best to uphold this family's honor."

Soun just nodded his head, unable to respond. To say that everyone was shocked was a bit of an understatement. Nabiki was again the first to recover her wits.

"You mean that you're not going to get the marriage annulled?" This sudden change in the dynamic was both unprecedented and unexpected. Nabiki hated both.

"I am going to speak to Ranma about the situation, and we will decide together what the best course of action to take will be. If he is amiable, then I have no problems letting things stand."

"You can't be serious!" Akane protested. Kasumi just raised an elegant eyebrow and calmly cocked her head.

"And why wouldn't I be?"

"Why are you doing this?" The youngest demanded.

"Haven't you been listening, Akane?" Nabiki rolled her eyes.

"There has to be more to it than that!" The youngest Tendo protested. "It's the rings! It's got to be! They're doing something to you aren't they?"

Kasumi ignored her sister's outburst, and closed her eyes for a moment before patiently threading her fingers together and folding her hands in her lap.

"Do you really want to know?" Everyone at the table nodded their heads vigorously. "Because my sisters are too self-centered and immature to do what has been asked of them. I will not deny that there is something strange about the rings, but they have not influenced me to feel any differently than I have already felt. In the end, my reasons are simple: someone has to uphold our family's honor, and it might as well be someone who is willing to make an effort to build a loving marriage that will last."

Akane and Nabiki reacted as if they had been slapped.

"More than anything, I have accepted this marriage because Ranma is a wonderful young man - one who deserves more than life has given him. He has earned my trust and my respect, and because of that I look forward to doing my best to make him happy. If he will have me, then I will do everything in my power to repay the kindness and self-sacrifice he has shown this family."

"But…but…" Akane tried to get the words out, but Soun overrode her in favor of asking a shrewd question that left Kasumi blushing.

"Do you love him?"

"The seeds are there, father." She smiled brightly, lighting up the room with her countenance. "I plan on nurturing them as best as I can."

Soun started to cry, but his tears were joyous.

"Go with my blessings, Daughter. Make a good life for yourself." Kasumi bowed deeply and hugged her father.

"Thank you, Daddy."

Soun nodded and kissed Kasumi on the cheek as she departed. Nabiki was watching her older sister, mouth agape and eyes wide, as she made her way to the stairs. Akane refused to look up from the table, but it was apparent that she was greatly troubled by the situation. For her part, Kasumi sympathized with her little sister's shock, to a certain degree. It was time for the girl to grow, but she was sad that it took something this drastic for Akane to wake up.

She exited the room and made her way upstairs to speak with Ranma privately, only to stop halfway up the staircase. Nodoka stood at the top of the landing, smiling brightly down at her. Kasumi blushed beet red as she slowly climbed the stairs. By the time she reached Ranma's mother, the older woman enveloped her in another bone-crushing hug and began to sob against her shoulder. Kasumi gently rubbed the woman's back, allowing Nodoka all the time she needed to vent her emotions. Ranma's mother rewarded Kasumi's kindness with three little words, one of which she had dreamed of hearing since her mother's death.

"Thank you, Daughter."

**************

Ranma stood outside Happosai's room for a long time before gathering up the self-control to knock. It wouldn't do to provoke the old pervert until he had the information he needed, namely how to free Kasumi and himself from the rings. The idiot twins had been exceptionally blunt in their descriptions about what the magical artifacts would eventually do. But that had only been after they'd gotten the rings on Ranma and Kasumi's fingers. For once in their lives, the sneaky bastards actually succeeded in pulling one of their plans off.

Now it was up to Ranma to undo the whole mess before things got ugly.

Knock. knock.

"Come in, Ranma m'boy."

The young martial artist ground his teeth at the false cheer in Happosai's voice, but he managed to open the door with only minor damage to the doorknob. Ranma had only been in the room a handful of times and every time he entered it felt like he was doing something exceptionally dirty. Hell, every time he left the damn place he had to bathe repeatedly. He knew that this time would be no different.

Disgust was plainly evident on his face as he stepped over the piles of stolen underwear to get to the only clear space at the middle of the room. The number of lacy bras and panties hanging from clothes lines had increased since the last time he'd been here, which meant that the reprehensible martial arts master had just come back from a raid. It sickened Ranma to no end to know that the Art was being tainted like this. It was a stain on his honor that he'd never found a way to deal with; short of challenging the old goat for the School, something that Ranma knew he wasn't ready for yet. He had the skill, but the experience was seriously lacking and against an opponent like Happosai or Cologne he would need all the experience he could get.

It was one of the reasons he fought so hard and trained so much – he literally dreamed of the day he could bring the old letch down and restore some semblance of respect to the Art he'd dedicated his life to. But that dream wasn't the reason for his visit today. The things he'd gotten his father to "confess" were disturbing enough, and the fact that they had gone to Happosai for help had proven just how desperate they were to see their dreams come true.

Evidence of Happi's dabbling in the arcane and esoteric occult littered the room to a lesser degree than his perverse love of women's undergarments, but it was prevalent enough that the hair on the back of Ranma's neck was standing on end. Ancient tomes, vials, fetishes, and all manner of magical relics were placed in a deceptively haphazard pattern all across the room. From what little he knew of magic, which was next to nothing, Ranma was wise enough to respect the items and their awesome potential to screw up his life. Happosai coughed, bringing Ranma's attention back to the mission at hand.

"I heard you got yourself hitched, eh? Looking for some pointers for the honeymoon?"

Happi wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Ranma submerged himself deep in the Soul of Ice in order to prevent himself from exploding.

"That Kasumi-chan is a fiiiine woman. If only I was two hundred years younger…Zowie!"

"How can we remove the rings?" Ranma bypassed all the small talk and went directly for the topic of interest. It was the only thing keeping him from going for the ancient pervert's jugular.

Happi's blissful little grin died on his lips as Ranma's aura started to pulse dangerously. Ranma could see fear creeping into the man's eyes, just as it had in Genma's eyes downstairs. Good. At least the old man knew he was serious.

"They told you then, huh?" It was more a statement than a question. "Of course they did, otherwise you wouldn't be here. The idiots. They never could follow through on a plan to save their lives."

"How do we remove the rings?" Ranma repeated.

"You don't." Happi rubbed a matching set of lacy, sky-blue, silk underwear against his cheeks, ignoring the way Ranma's knuckles were popping. "Not unless you want to kill yourself and poor Kasumi."

"What do you mean?" Ranma ground out.

"Just what I said, boy. The rings don't come off until both of you are dead." Happi slipped the panties over his head and cackled. "You're stuck, kid! Until death do you part! Best make the most of it!"

"Why keep your part in it a secret?" Ranma growled. Happi grinned and shook his head.

"Didn't tell you everything I see, did they?"

The old man plopped himself down on another of the small mountains of undergarments, sinking into it like some sort of plush throne. He pulled out his pipe and carefully lit it, filling the room with a harsh smelling tobacco that was heavy and just a little sweet. He took his time to blow a few smoke rings before speaking again.

"If the fools had one semi-redeeming attribute, it was self-preservation."

"Why?" Ranma's patience was wearing very thin.

"Where are your manners? Aren't you at least going to ask nicely?" The diminutive pervert pouted.

"This is nicely." Ranma growled. A hint of his aura flared and slipped through his tight control, and Ranma immediately plunged himself deeper into the Soul of Ice to counter it. Happosai shrugged and puffed on his pipe some more before deciding to answer.

"They wanted the legacy secure and since they had failed to achieve their goals so remarkably in the past, they came to me. I gave them the rings as added insurance for their little plan."

"And what did you get out of the deal?"

Happi's flippant little smile split into a wide, maniacal grin.

"Bright Lad! Smart lad! You're starting to catch on to the way the world works, aren'cha?" Happosai snorted and frowned. "Don't let it go to your head."

"What did they promise you?" Ranma's aura started to slip again, in spite of the Soul of Ice, and the floorboards beneath his feet began to sport a thin film of frost.

"Hey! Hey!" The gnomish man hopped from his throne of panties and quickly rescued a pile that was a little too close to Ranma for comfort. "Simmer down, kid! These are precious!"

Ranma closed his eyes and breathed evenly, reigning in his emotions before they got the better of him.

"One more time, old man. What did they promise you?"

Ranma must have looked like Death come-a-knocking, because Happosai began to look for escape routes. The young martial artist's hand shot out in a blur, causing the air to crack loudly, and snagged the perverted grandmaster by the throat hauling him to eye level. He didn't ask again, he just waited. Steam seemed to rise from Happi's gi as the chill of Ranma's aura mixed with the old man's body heat.

"They…GASP…offered…CHOKE…your…COUGH…first born…WHEEZE…son."

Ranma's aura exploded in a conflagration of frigid spiritual fire, flash freezing anything within easy reach of his ki. Happosai flared his own aura and tried to free himself as parts of his and Ranma's clothes literally shattered by the young man's cold fury. Ranma's grip tightened, effectively cutting off any air to the gnome's lungs. More than a few disturbing cracks and pops accompanied Happi's gurgles and weak thrashing. The old man had obviously underestimated Ranma, and without proper leverage there was little he could do. Happosai's life was in Ranma's hand, and while Happi could channel his ki into his neck to keep Ranma from breaking his spine, that did little to keep him from suffocating.

He knew it and Ranma knew it.

"You even _think_ about coming near my family uninvited, and you will be begging for death." Ranma's aura continued to grow colder and colder, freezing the moisture in air enough to make it snow. His voice, when he found enough control to speak again, seemed to echo with deadly menace throughout the room. Happi's face was turning a nice shade of purple and his movements were becoming clumsier. "You idiots have crossed the line this time. Involving Kasumi in this mess and by even thinking about bringing any kids I might have into the picture makes it perfectly clear that its time for things ta change. I'm going to give you a choice here and now: your life for your title old man."

To emphasize his point, Happosai's skin started turning a bit blue from the lack of oxygen and the extreme cold.

"So what's it going to be, Happosai? Nod if you agree." Ranma was pleased to see the old man's head bob once and he eased his grip ever so slightly. "Good. Yer smart enough to cut yer losses. But just to make things crystal clear, I ain't gonna have the threat of your revenge hanging over me. You leave me and mine alone and I'll leave you and yours alone. So long as you don't bring dishonor to the School, I won't step in."

Ranma paused long enough to let his points sink home, and silently thanked Nabiki for all the grilling negotiations she'd put him through. Still unable to speak, Happosai nodded angrily.

"Swear it." Ranma hissed. He loosened his grip some more and prepared himself. If the old letch was going to make any move against Ranma, now would be the time for it. To his surprise, Happi just gulped air and made no further move to retaliate.

"I sw…swear!" Happosai's words were forced through chattering teeth. Neither really noticed the ring on Ranma's finger glow.

Ranma nodded and tossed him into one of the frozen mountains of underwear. The stiff unmentionables did little to cushion his fall. Ranma chose to back out of the room, rather than present an opening to the ancient martial artist. When he reached the door, Happosai crawled out from the confines of his icy booty and glared at Ranma. The young grandmaster paused and, still caught up in the Soul of Ice, returned the glower with just as much intensity.

"You got something more ta say, old man?"

Happi's glare slowly turned into a cunning grin.

"You may have retired me, kid, but I'm still a grandmaster of the School. Any decisions you make will still have to be passed by me."

"Says who?" Ranma demanded.

"Tradition!" Happi croaked.

"You can take your tradition and shove it!" Ranma narrowed his eyes. "I ain't your pawn and I ain't letting you or anyone else play me any longer."

Happi's eyes got pathetically big and watery.

"You'd steal an old man's only reason for living?"

Ranma turned his back on Happosai and opened the door, completely dismissing the man.

"For what you did to Kasumi-chan and what you were planning on doing to my family, as far as I'm concerned old man, you can dry up and die." He paused and looked over his shoulder at the shocked face of the ancient pervert. "I meant what I said, Happosai. Part of me, the part that took down Saffron, hopes you won't believe me – that way, when you choose to cross me, I can send you to Hell with a clear conscience…gift wrapped in my old man's boxers."

The young martial artist stepped through the door and slammed it shut behind him, leaving Happosai alone amidst his frozen kingdom of feminine underwear. He made it as far as his room before the old lecher's protesting voice finally reached his ears. He opened his door with a dark smile that seemed to match the darkness of the guestroom. He may have lost one battle, but at long last he'd effectively won the war.

"RANMAAAAAAAA!"

**************

The sounds of Happosai's ranting woke Kasumi from her sleepy bath. The emotional fatigue of the last few days had done quite a bit to drain her, and she had enjoyed the short-lived bliss of her soak. After parting with her mother-in-law she had gone to check on Ranma, only to find that the air just outside the elderly man's door was terribly frigid. The floorboards and the door itself were covered with a thick layer of frost, which was warning enough for her not to interfere.

She ran into Nodoka again on her way to her room, and noted that she was carrying one of the guestroom's futons. When asked where she was going, Nodoka explained that she didn't feel right sleeping in the guestroom with Ranma now that he was a married man. This of course made Kasumi blush, as the implications of Nodoka's unspoken statement hit home. In light of everything that was happening, she certainly hadn't thought too much about sleeping arrangements…or of certain other things associated with married life. It was in that moment that the reality of her new status in life finally began to catch up with her.

She tried to deflect some of the sudden pressure by admitting that Ranma might not be ready for such a drastic step, but her mother-in-law slipped something into Kasumi's hand and simply patted her arm. The large grin on the woman's face made Kasumi shiver as she was led back to her room. The shiver became a full body blush as Nodoka preceded to give Kasumi "The Talk" and helping her pick out some nightwear that was sure to impress her son. Kasumi had no idea where half the garments came from, although the more she thought about it the more she suspected that Nodoka had raided grandfather Happosai's hoard.

Kasumi begged off soon after she heard a loud bang come from Happosai's room, saying that Ranma would likely be done soon and she wanted to speak with him before he went to bed. Nodoka grinned and winked, but when she made to leave Kasumi insisted that she stay here instead. Having her mother-in-law sleep in the dojo was just not done. Besides, Kasumi didn't think she would be able to be stay in her room for any amount of time without reliving the frank discussion she'd had with Ranma's mother.

Traumatized was just too tame a word.

So it was that, after a great deal of deliberation and a much needed bath, Kasumi found herself leaving the furo, clad in a modest robe and carrying her toiletries up to the guestroom. She could still hear banging and cursing coming from Happosai's room, and she grinned as ideas of what Ranma must have said or done to the freeloading jerk ran through her head. It was better to think on that, than to imagine the uncomfortable situation she was walking into.

Somehow, she had always imagined her wedding night being a bit more romantic than this. Not that she was complaining about the circumstances, but she knew better than anyone else that Ranma wasn't ready for this. Heck, she wasn't ready for this. She couldn't deny the excitement she felt at the prospect though. Kasumi arrived at the guestroom doors and tried to calm the sudden attack of butterflies in her stomach. Her heart began pounding like a trip hammer and she could feel her skin flush. She stood like that for a long time, warring with her uncertainty and the conflicting desires. Beneath all of these emotions she could feel something else invading her awareness, something familiar and powerful. As she tried to examine and categorize the sensations, Kasumi found her hand unconsciously reaching and opening the door.

Anger. Anger and worry. Anger, worry, and guilt.

Kasumi was awash in the emotions and the power of their intensity was like a rip tide, threatening to sweep her under. Her eyes tracked to the source of the sensations and found her gaze settling on Ranma, seated in the windowsill, looking up at the almost full moon. His knees were gathered to his chest and his face was a stony mask illuminated by the moonlight. He looked up at her and smiled gently, and Kasumi felt herself assaulted again by an intense sensation of guilt and self-loathing. She entered the room and shut the door behind her. The closer she drew to him, the stronger the emotions became; she could also "hear" the echo of something else…incoherent words and images in her mind that were not her own. She paused half way across the room, feeling it a safe distance that would protect Ranma's privacy.

"Are you alright, Ranma?"

"I guess." He shrugged. "How are you?"

She could feel the passion backing his concern and it surprised her. He truly cared for her. He felt a need to protect her, to keep her safe. She'd never felt something so wonderful before.

"I haven't felt this happy in a long time." She admitted.

"Happy?" His confusion made her smile and the urge to gather him in her arms was great. "You mean you ain't angry about all of this?"

She smiled and hoped that the conduit of emotion worked both ways. She willed her acceptance to him and settled herself in a pool of moonlight on the floor. The white terrycloth robe seemed to glow in the silvery light and she felt something odd drift through their connection. It felt warm and…awed? Kasumi blushed and began playing with the ends of the robe's belt absently. It took her a minute or two to gather her wits enough to get back on track.

"Should I be?" She asked, looking up at him. This time it was Ranma's turn to blush heavily.

"I…I don't know." He admitted. His confusion grew as he scratched the back of his neck. "I thought you would be. I mean having your life suddenly turned upside down ain't fun."

"I guess you are an authority on the subject, aren't you?" Kasumi grinned. Ranma laughed and nodded.

"I guess I am." He looked at her and after a moment sighed. "I'm sorry you got sucked into all of this."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah. It is." Ranma said lamely. He rested his chin on his knees and a surge of depression lanced through the link.

"Why?" Kasumi asked.

"I should have made a decision by now. It shouldn't have gotten this far outta hand."

"Who would you have chosen?"

Ranma shrugged.

"No idea." She felt the maelstrom of frustration and confusion that welled within the young man at the thought. "All things considered, it probably would have been Akane."

"Why?" Kasumi tried to keep her emotions neutral, in order to avoid distracting him. "Do you love her?"

Ranma laughed darkly. There was no mirth in the gesture either.

"I don't even know the meaning of the word, Kasumi-chan." The young man's depression came back full force, making Kasumi's stomach and heart hurt. "It ain't like I've had a lot of experience with it."

Before she could understand what was happening, Kasumi was on her feet and by Ranma's side. The emotional backlash of drawing closer to the young man brought tears to her eyes and she could hear his thoughts plainly, as if he had spoken out loud.

[Who could love a freak like me anyway?]

_You are not a freak, Ranma._

He looked up at her in shock and started to say something, but she placed her fingers over his mouth and smiled. She opened her heart and let all the uncertainty fade away, pouring everything she had been feeling over the last few days into the link. She showed him the happiness he'd given her and the excitement of finally having an opportunity to express herself openly. She systematically embraced and challenged each doubt that arose. It was instinctual and she couldn't have told you how she was doing it, only that she was. She noted that both of the rings were glowing bright enough to drive the darkness away, and faintly understood that their magic had something to do with her success.

She didn't care so much how she was driving away his depression, only that she was.

The change in him was magnificent to behold. Years of neglect and abuse were washed away beneath her gentle acceptance, and she could see the shining core of his potential peeking through the detritus of Genma's abysmal parenting. She felt a need to reach out to that small sun and embrace it. It was an unnatural need…almost a prompting and that sense of sudden uncertainty caused her to pause in her metaspiritual war against Ranma's demons. She could feel her own doubts surfacing, wondering if she was worthy of Ranma's love…wondering if the feelings she had in this moment were real or manufactured by the magic of the rings. She knew nothing about the artifacts short of what her father and father-in-law had told them earlier; but she could tell that they had a mind and designs of their own. She didn't want to be forced to love Ranma, nor did she want him to be forced into loving her. She wanted them to have the choice. She wanted to know that he loved her of his own volition.

Was that wrong?

[No, Kasumi-chan. It's not wrong.]

_Could you love an old woman?_

She tried to keep the desperation out of her mental voice but, with the way things were, she knew that her soul was just as bare to Ranma as his was to her.

[No. But I could love you.]

Like she had done for Ranma, the young martial artist instinctively denounced every shadowy doubt, redressed every self-deluded misconception, and countered each hypothetical fear that Kasumi could dredge up. He battled past her horrors and secret shames, until he finally exposed her own crystalline heart – the expansiveness of her potential and the hub of her soul. She didn't know how long they held that position. Time really had no meaning to them in that place. All that she knew was that Ranma was the first to reach out. Feeling him move was all it took for Kasumi to eagerly reciprocate. It didn't seem to matter that they were under the influence of the rings at all. Once Ranma touched her core and she his, the world fell away and was replaced by something too incredible for words. The only concepts remotely close to describing the event were Unity and Completion. There was no Ranma, there was no Kasumi – there was only one magnificent whole.

She was swallowed in that ocean of love that she had found buried in Ranma's soul, and surrendered herself gladly. All was finally right with her world.

**************

There were no words. Even if Ranma had spent years studying every language known to man, nothing would have come close to describing the joy he was experiencing. He'd found something so incredibly precious, something so profound…again there were just no words adequate enough to describe how he felt. Nor would he dare to try. It would cheapen the experience. So he simply sat, with his back against the wall beneath the window and Kasumi's back pressed against his chest. One arm was draped across her chest holding her hand, while his other hand was calmly running his fingers through her wet hair.

He felt no discomfort in holding her in such an intimate manner, nor had he any problems in kissing her beautiful lips when the moment presented itself. Mere physical contact was a poor shadow of what they had just shared, and besides, how could he possibly feel uncomfortable holding the other half of his soul? Such intimacy felt…correct, natural, desired…it was the first step of many they would take together in their new life. In a way, Ranma was extremely grateful to Happosai for his meddling. The old man had given him something irreplaceable and even if his motives were questionable, Ranma found enough compassion to forgive the elderly deviant his trespass.

[Ranma?]

_Yes?_

Ranma couldn't hide the giddy smile in his thoughts. It was weird and wonderful to hear her thoughts and be able to respond in kind. The openness of sharing feelings and ideas in such a pure and unrefined manner was wonderfully refreshing. He knew where he stood with Kasumi and vice versa. It was exciting to share something so…so pure with someone. He just couldn't get over it.

[What happens now?]

He shrugged mentally and physically.

_What do you want to happen?_

The sudden yearning that flowed through their bond didn't surprise him, not really.

[I want to run away. I want to be free of all of this.]

Ranma bent his head so that his lips were pressed against the point where her neck and shoulder met. A few hours ago, the gesture would have terrified him. Now it was instinctual and from the way that Kasumi exposed her neck to him, very much welcomed.

_When do you want to leave?_

He felt himself awash in a sensation of warmth and excitement. She pulled herself free and turned to face him. Her smile caused his heart to skip a beat.

[Do you mean it?]

It was a silly question, and Kasumi blushed. Of course he meant it, it wasn't like he could lie to her.

[I would have thought that you'd want to clear things up first.]

Ranma shrugged uncomfortably.

_I probably should. It would give everyone closure, wouldn't it?_

[It would give us a fresh start.]

Kasumi absently played with Ranma's shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles in the dark green silk across the muscular expanse of his chest. He closed his eyes and relaxed, relishing the feeling of her fingers.

Yeah. I can see your point. The last thing we need is for Ukyou or Shampoo ta follow us around. It'll be bad enough with people like Ryouga poppin' outta the woodwork from time to time.

Kasumi grinned mischievously, a look that Ranma rather liked on her beautiful face.

[I doubt we'll have to worry about Ryouga any more.]

A memory of Kasumi's confrontation with the pig-headed (Ranma couldn't help but snicker at that descriptive) martial artist played out in his mind, bringing a satisfied smile to Ranma's face. It was highly unlikely that Ranma would be lucky enough to avoid his rival completely, but he had to admit that his new wife had done a wonderful job in putting the fear of God into Ryouga's heart. Perhaps it was more appropriate to say: "the fear of Akane" instead. The newlyweds snickered together at the memory.

I hope I never make you mad at me.

Kasumi kissed his nose.

[If you do, here's a way to apologize.]

The images and sensations that flashed through Ranma's mind caused him to flush and swallow repeatedly. His eyes could only stare at his wife as she smiled and bit her bottom lip playfully.

_Kasumi! _

He feigned shock causing her to giggle helplessly as he tickled her. She fell to her side and then rolled onto her back as Ranma pursued her relentlessly. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but a whimper and a titter escaped her lips all the same. When he finally stopped, her hair was splayed out in a dark fan above her head and her robe had come open to reveal the low cut, navy blue, silk nightgown Nodoka had helped her pick out. Ranma had never seen a more beautiful or stimulating sight in his life and, for him, that was saying something. He placed his hands on either side of her head and bent his head down until their noses almost touched.

_Who knew you could be so…aggressive?_

A sudden fire burned in her eyes and, before Ranma knew what was happening, the room was in motion and his head had hit the floor with a little thump. Kasumi had somehow gone from being on her back to sitting on top of him with his arms pinned and her wet hair tickling his face.

[How's that for aggressive?]

Ranma couldn't help but quiver at the hunger in her mental voice. He could only smile in baited anticipation for Kasumi to make the next move. The smoky look in her eyes stirred his blood even more and he didn't resist in the least when she kissed him ardently. The kiss lasted for a long time and would have moved on to something else entirely, Ranma's nervous inhibitions be damned, had they not heard a choked sob come from the door to the guestroom.

Both looked up in time to see a stricken Akane standing in the doorway, limply holding a barbell in one hand. She looked as if her world had been destroyed and tears streamed down her face. The weight fell from her weak fingers and clattered to the floor with a heavy thump, marring the floorboards. Ranma and Kasumi shared a moment of concern before reaching out to the young woman in perfect unison. Akane flinched as if struck, and then bolted with a wail of despair. The echoes of her mournful cries carried throughout the house, waking the other residents, and were punctuated by the slamming of a door not far off.

"Damn."

It was strange to hear the word he'd spoken echoed perfectly from his new wife's voice, but stranger still was the sensation of sorrow being shared between them. It was a unified emotion, one that didn't differ in the slightest from husband to wife. They both felt what the other felt, completely and perfectly.

Kasumi slid off of Ranma and looked worriedly at where her sister had been. For his part, the young martial artist rolled to his knees behind his wife and held her close. As the other residents of the house poked their heads into the guestroom, Kasumi began to cry and Ranma joined her. There was no shame in the expression, no questioning of manhood or brazen denial. Both mourned for Akane's heartbreak, and those that witnessed their grief left them alone.

When the tears stopped, Kasumi looked into her husband's eyes and dried his cheeks. He smiled gently and returned the favor, before helping her to stand. It seemed that they would need to deal with some things and implement their half-formed plans sooner than expected.

I'll pack. You go ahead and have everyone meet us downstairs.

Kasumi nodded and kissed him before disappearing out the door. Ranma felt her physical presence diminish and her mental presence recede. Kasumi didn't disappear, but he felt a distinct loss that he didn't like at all. He pulled his pack and Genma's pack from the closet and set about filling them. His clothes went into Genma's backpack, while Ranma's was emptied for Kasumi's use. He moved quickly and by the time he'd finished with his, Kasumi had returned to help him. Relief washed through him at her return and he noticed that she was feeling the same as he handed her the empty rucksack.

He helped her pack quickly and efficiently as she changed into a sturdy pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. He was too distracted to watch her or even sneak a peak, and by the time he turned around, she was pulling her hair back into a serviceable ponytail that left her neck bare. It was a completely different look than anything Ranma had ever seen on her, and if anything it made her all the more beautiful in his eyes.

She must have felt his admiration, because she kissed him soundly and hugged him close. When they separated, Ranma gathered her hand in his and led them downstairs to confront an ugly situation. It was obvious that by the end of their discussion, their lives in Nerima would be done and a new adventure would begin.

**************

Akane's world had been turned upside down…again. Her father had done something stupid and now her sister was married to Ranma. She didn't know how to feel about that. Did she feel angry that the engagement had been torn out from under her, or did she feel relieved that the pressure to uphold the family's honor was no longer on her shoulders? In the end, it was apparent that it didn't matter how she felt. No one consulted her on the course and direction of her life any way.

She sighed and listened to Happosai's ranting. Ranma must have done something really nasty to the old lecher in order to get that type of response. Not for the first time she was glad that Ranma was around. No one else seemed capable or even willing to stand up to the little demon, and in that Ranma had always been every girl's knight in shining armor. He'd proven himself to be someone you could…count…on.

Kasumi's words returned to her. "Ungrateful" and "immature," that was how she had described Akane's behavior – and in light of her epiphany, Akane couldn't deny her sister's interpretation of her actions.

She sat for a long time, thinking of the past and taking a good look at her role in all of the misadventures. It was surprising to see just how much she and Ranma had been through together, but Akane was more than a little ashamed to note that she had been rather self-centered about things. She couldn't take all the blame. Ranma had more than his fair share of rough edges to smooth out, but she could easily see that he had tried his best. He might not have been good with words, but he was certainly proficient in speaking with his actions. Given his upbringing and parental role model, Akane was stunned beyond words at what those actions had been saying to the world.

She was so blind.

How much plainer could he have made it? Sure he could have said those three little words, but that just wasn't his style. Somewhere deep inside her, she had recognized what he was trying to tell her, but her pride and frustration had overwhelmed that realization. And rather than reciprocating she had lashed out at him. Instead of supporting him, she had often betrayed his trust by siding with others.

"Oh, Akane! What have you done?" She whispered.

Maybe it wasn't too late! Maybe she could convince Kasumi to get the marriage certificate annulled and return the engagement back to her. She knew she could change, and make things work. After all she and Ranma had been through together, she at least deserved another chance…didn't she? All of that had to mean something, right?

She smiled hopefully and got up from her bed, adjusting her yellow "Deko Boko Friends" pajamas as she opened the door. She felt something very strange as she passed the guestroom on her way to talk to Kasumi, but filed it away as nothing more than chilly air.

_Ranma must have the window open tonight._

It wasn't uncommon, since he usually spent the evenings on the roof nowadays, and Akane pushed the thought into the back of her mind. She knocked quietly on Kasumi's door and waited patiently as the sounds of shuffling grew closer. The door opened spilling light into the dark hall, causing Akane to squint as her eyes adjusted. When she was able to focus on the figure in the nightgown, standing in the doorway, the youngest Tendo was more than a little confused.

"Hello, Akane-chan. Is there something I can do for you?" Ranma's mother asked. Her smile was kind and genuine, but the words were a little too precise.

"N-no, Auntie. I was just wanting to speak to Kasumi is all." Akane tried to look around Nodoka's shoulder to catch a glimpse of her sister.

"I'm afraid Kasumi-chan isn't here, Dear." A red flag immediately went up in Akane's mind. "She said she was going to take a bath before going to bed."

Akane nodded and was about to thank Ranma's mother as she turned to go find her sister, but the woman's next words gave her pause.

"If it is something that I can help you with, I am more than happy to oblige, otherwise I'm sure that Kasumi-chan will be happy to talk with you tomorrow."

"Why do you say that, Auntie?" What would prevent Kasumi from seeing her tonight? Kasumi was always there for her when she needed to talk.

"Well, I would think that would be obvious, Dear." Nodoka's smile was just a bit wistful and tinged with more than a fair amount of melancholy.

"I'm not following…" Akane admitted.

"It's her wedding night, Akane-chan; a little delayed perhaps, but still the first night she has with her husband. It just wouldn't be appropriate for you to interrupt her private time with Ranma." The words hit Akane like a ton of bricks and the shock actually caused her to stagger. She stared at the woman for a moment before shaking her head and smiling.

"Good one, Auntie." She chuckled. "You had me going there for a minute."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Dear." Nodoka's voice was calm and serious, making Akane's heart rate pick up a bit.

"It's just that…I mean you're joking…right?" She laughed weakly. "There's just no way that Kasumi would…you know…with Ranma."

"Why ever not?" Nodoka asked evenly. "Is there something else wrong with my Ranma that no one has bothered to tell me about?"

"Well, no. I mean of course not!" Akane blushed. "It's just that Ranma and Kasumi aren't…"

Nodoka placed her hand on Akane's shoulder comfortingly.

"Aren't what, Dear?"

The calm look of sympathetic understanding in her eye made Akane cringe.

"She wouldn't do that! Not with Ranma!" Akane protested hotly. "She loves Doctor Tofu."

"Akane-chan…"

The young woman shrugged out of Nodoka's grasp and backed up a step.

"No! I don't believe you!" She hissed.

She stormed back down the hall and stopped in front of the guestroom door. Akane moved to open the door, but the sound of giggling stopped her. Giggling? She listened closer and after a few minutes, recognized Kasumi's voice in the laughter. The eruption of anger and the sound of her blood rushing in her ears were making it difficult to think.

How dare he! How dare HE! In her own home no less!

She ran to her room and scooped up a one of her heavier weights. There was no way in Hell she was going to let this one pass. He wasn't going to take advantage of Kasumi under the pretenses of this marriage sham! She returned to the guestroom door and was immediately confronted by Nodoka and Nabiki. They tried to hold her back, but she plowed through them as if they weren't even there. She paused outside the door again, waiting to confirm her theory before committing herself to entering the room. She heard a solid "thump," as if a body had fallen to the floor, and shrugging out of the clutching hands, she threw open the door.

The world, as she knew it, shattered.

Every reality she clung too was undone at the sight of Kasumi, dressed in a short and flimsy, navy blue silk nightgown, straddling Ranma. In his defense, he'd been in the same situation a number of times before and so, for the first time in her life, Akane paused long enough to confirm or deny her suspicions. That moment brought a great many revelations as she watched the handsome face of her former fiancé. He wasn't panicky, as he had been under the weight of Shampoo. He wasn't quietly annoyed at Kasumi's touch, as he had been every time Ukyou pressed him. And she saw no disgust in his eyes, as she had witnessed in the numberless encounters Ranma had endured with Kodachi. None of the familiar emotions were present. Instead, there was a rare expression on his face that she had always yearned to see: relaxed openness.

Kasumi leaned down, pressing her body against his, and with a sultry smile that could only be found on the face of a lover…she kissed him. It was every kiss Akane had ever dreamed of, rolled into one; passionate and pure, it said one thing very clearly to the trio of women witnessing it.

Kasumi loved Ranma, and from the gentle eagerness of his reciprocation it was apparent that he loved her just as much in return.

Nabiki and Nodoka silently backed out of the doorway, giving Ranma and Kasumi their privacy, but stayed close in case Akane tried something drastic. Akane neither noticed nor cared. All she felt was the building pain in her heart and her gut. She stood there, watching numbly, as the couple's kissing became heavier and more urgent, and imagined that it was her in Kasumi's place.

The silent dreams she'd carried for so long, disintegrated. There would be no children. There would be no passionate nights or quiet walks. There would be no cozy chit-chat or mundane chores. She wouldn't stand by his side in the dojo, training up a new generation of martial artists. Her future with Ranma was dead, and she had no one to blame but herself. Well, there was Daddy and Genma. She could probably lump Happosai in there too, but in the end even she had to admit that the greater fault had been her own. She had driven Ranma into the arms of her sister with her anger and mistrust.

Akane couldn't keep it in any longer. She sobbed.

The tears fell and with them, so too did her weapon of retribution. The weight hit the floor with a loud "thud," and Akane remotely noted that the couple was staring at her. There was no guilt in either face, only open concern.

How? How had they become so close, so fast? Had they been having an affair behind her back? No. Ranma was a lot of things, but he wasn't unfaithful – in spite of Akane's paranoia. Her wet eyes trailed down to the glowing wedding bands on the couple's fingers and she had her answer. The magic of the rings. Something had happened with the rings to draw them so close. It was the only answer she was willing to accept. Akane looked up at Kasumi and her lips trembled.

First Doctor Tofu and now Ranma.

Why did she have to be so good? Why did she have to be so damn beautiful? Why did everyone love her, and Akane was stuck in the shadows? Why?

WHY?

She cried out in despair and anguish, and ran. She couldn't see where she was going, but somehow found the refuge of her room all the same. She slammed the door and fell to the floor just short of her bed, weeping bitter tears of desolation.

**************

It had taken a great deal of time and effort to gather everyone back into the family room. Nabiki spent a great deal of that time coaxing Akane out of her misery enough to make the trip back downstairs. As it was, she was still despondent and prone to bouts of weeping. Akane's emotional state was torture for Ranma and, were it not for Kasumi's arm around his shoulders, Nabiki was certain that he would have gone to her rescue as he had so many times before.

Her father was downcast too upon seeing the emotional state his baby girl was in, and Nabiki couldn't help but feel a bit of resentment for the man's favoritism. Nodoka looked uncomfortable when she came down the stairs, especially upon seeing the freshly packed backpacks. Her errand to get Happosai was apparently a bust.

"Is he still pouting?" Ranma asked. The bitter tone of his voice only served to darken the already gloomy mood.

"He wasn't there." Nodoka said as she sat between Ranma and Soun distractedly.

"Figures." Nabiki snorted as she rubbed small circles along Akane's back.

Nodoka shook her head.

"No, I mean he and all his belongings were…just gone."

The statement caused a number of varying reactions in the gathered group. Nabiki chose to observe rather than react. Akane sniffled and mumbled "Good riddance." Nodoka just looked thoughtful. Uncle Genma was nowhere in sight, but Nabiki knew he would have been celebrating. She could see a weight lift from her father's shoulders but at the same time he seemed to sag in on himself guiltily. While strange, Nabiki was more intrigued by the silent dialogue happening between Ranma and Kasumi. It was almost as if the pair were carrying on a silent conversation the way that….

Nabiki's eyebrow quirked at the sight of Kasumi's eyes bulging in shock as she pulled back to look at Ranma. It was as if she had just heard something terribly shocking, and couldn't believe her ears. Everyone was astonished when Kasumi reached across her new husband and her mother-in-law and slapped her father soundly.

"HOW COULD YOU!"

Nabiki had never seen Kasumi this angry. Even when Ranma had been hurt earlier in the week wasn't as bad as this. She kept hitting and slapping him without stopping. "How can you call yourself my father? After I defended you too!"

It took both Ranma and Nodoka to pull her off, and Ranma was forced to wrap his arms and legs around her to keep her restrained. The young man looked sad, but resolute and Nabiki knew something really big was about to hit the fan.

"Kasumi-chan?" Soun looked as confused as everyone else felt.

"Don't you dare call me that!" She relaxed somewhat, but Ranma didn't release her or loosen his grip on her. "You have no right!"

"I don't understand."

"You promised him my baby!" Tears flowed down her cheeks and Soun's face paled to an ashen gray. "You were going to let him steal my first born son, all so you could join your damned schools. What kind of father are you?"

Akane and Nodoka gasped in shock and Nabiki felt terribly numb. Soun shook his head, trying to recover from the hate filled glare his eldest daughter was giving him.

"I…"

"DON'T YOU DARE DENY IT!" She roared. She fought against Ranma, trying to reach Soun, and he winced as she thrashed. Impotent tears of rage wet her cheeks and Nabiki was surprised to see Ranma's eyes weren't very dry either. To see him, twice in one night, being this expressive was unheard of.

"…don't you dare…." Kasumi's rage tapered into broken sobs and she finally turned and buried her face in Ranma's shoulder. Ranma closed his eyes and sat impassively, refusing to speak or look at anyone as he comforted the woman in his arms.

"Is it true, Dad?" Akane whispered. She looked up at her father from Nabiki's arms, but the man couldn't meet her gaze. "I'll take that as a yes."

A heavy silence pressed down on the room, broken occasionally by Kasumi's sobs. When it became too much for her, she ran from the room to seek the familiar peace of her kitchen. Nabiki wanted to go with her, but Akane refused to let her go.

"It could have been my baby." She murmured. She looked over to Ranma, and Nabiki followed her gaze. The young man was surrounded by that same, icy cold aura he had sported earlier in the evening.

"The Master wanted a true heir." He looked to Ranma desperately. "It was the only way to gain his aid. I wouldn't have given up the child! You must know that!"

Ranma opened his eyes and stared at the man darkly.

"The bargain shouldn't have been on the table in the first place, Tendo-san." Ranma's voice was cold and distant. "You and Genma expected me to set things right for you didn't you?"

Soun nodded morosely.

"Well, I did."

Soun looked up at Ranma with fear and hope. Nabiki thought it was the most pathetic thing she'd ever seen. The man that had been her father was slowly breaking right before her very eyes. She could already see the madness seeping in and taking root. Soun Tendo wasn't going to walk away from this one intact. To be honest, Nabiki doubted that her father's fragile mind and ego would survive the night through. She fully expected to wake up in the morning and find her father a vegetable, or having committed suicide. She didn't know which would be better for the man or his family.

"How? What did you do?"

"I claimed grandmaster status."

Nabiki should have been shocked along with everyone else, but somehow she knew that this was coming down the pipe.

"You've taken the School from him?" The begging expectation in Soun's voice was wretched. "Are we finally free of him?"

"No. I didn't take the School from him." Soun wilted. "I split from him completely."

"What does that mean?" Akane asked weakly.

"It means that the old bastard keeps his School and I keep mine. He ain't got say in what I do, and I ain't got say in what he does."

"What does that mean for us, Ranma?" Soun's voice was hollow, bereft of hope.

"Well, that depends."

"On what?" Nabiki asked.

"On which School the Tendo line wants to be associated with." Ranma said bluntly. "I made it clear to the little prick that I wasn't going to stand for any of his crap. He was ta leave me and mine alone, period. He steps over the line and I finish what I started up in his room."

He looked at Soun expectantly.

"So? What's it gonna be? You gonna grow up and be a man, Tendo? Or are you going to continue to hide under your bed and make excuses for yourself?"

Soun looked ready to answer but Ranma held up his hand and stopped him.

"Let me make myself real clear here, about what I expect out of my students and those that practice _my_ School." He began ticking things off on his fingers. "First and foremost, we follow the Code. A martial artist protects the weak and makes the world they live in a better place. There ain't no more free rides here, Tendo. You come under my banner, you'd damn well better know up front you're gonna work your ass off. This dojo is going to reopen and you're going to be the one teaching in it."

Soun looked worried for a moment, but nodded. His face took on a hard, serious expression, and Nabiki had to smile.

_Maybe Daddy will make it after all. _She smiled at Ranma, but the young man didn't look away from her father's face.

"Two, Genma Saotome isn't to set foot in or have influence over the School at all. I hear one whisper that you've let that bastard taint my students and you're out. If I hear that you're using any of the idiot's training methods, I'll have your head faster than you can blink."

There was pain in her father's eyes, but it was also apparent that he was evaluating Genma's role in this whole debacle. In the end he nodded his acceptance to Ranma's logic. Genma was a leech, plain and simple. He carried disease with him that corrupted everything he touched. Well, almost everything.

Nabiki looked at Ranma and smiled.

"Three, if you plan on naming Akane your heir and if she expects to continue practicing the Art, then I insist that you start her training from scratch."

Akane shot up from Nabiki's embrace so fast it hurt. She looked ready to chew steel and spit nails.

"TEISHI!" Soun's ki laden voice shook the house, causing Akane to rock back in fear. "You will remember your place."

Ranma nodded, obviously pleased at how Soun was rising to the occasion.

"Your daughters have great potential, Tendo-san. All of them." Ranma looked at both Akane and Nabiki in turn. "If they're intent on being a part of this School, then I expect to see these lumps of coal turned into diamonds. No more pussy-footing around in their training. I ain't about to make the same mistakes my old man and the old letch made. The School's gonna be open to anyone who truly loves the Art, girls and boys. And if they want to learn, they're going to pay their dues in blood, sweat, and tears. No short cuts, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Master Ranma." Soun nodded.

"Good." He looked at Akane who nodded thoughtfully. "I ain't gonna assume nothin' here, so I'll ask you point blank: Are ya in or out?"

Soun bowed low to Ranma, refusing to look up as he spoke.

"If you will give us your blessing, Master Ranma, the Tendo family will respect your wishes and bring honor to your School."

Ranma looked to Akane and Nabiki expectantly. Nabiki bowed her head in acknowledgement of Ranma's assessment of her and in agreement with him. If he could get this type of reaction out of her father, then she was behind him a hundred percent. Akane however seemed torn between tearing him a new one and kissing him. He'd finally acknowledged her as a martial artist, but he'd given her the ultimate offense in saying that she needed to be trained all over again. Nabiki rolled her eyes and nudged her sharply in the ribs before Akane followed suit.

"Ya got my blessing. But Nabiki, I'm askin' you ta be in charge here."

"Me?" Nabiki's eyes widened in surprise. She looked askance to Akane and her father, both of whom had less than pleased looks on their faces. "Why me? Where are you going to be?"

Ranma seemed unfazed by the questions.

"Because, these two are going to be too busy ta run things properly, and out of everyone here you're the best qualified for the job."

"Flattery will get you every where, Saotome." Nabiki grinned.

"So I'm told." Ranma said dryly, matching Nabiki's grin.

She blushed and fidgeted under his steady gaze. She wondered, and not for the first time tonight, at the sudden change in his personality.

"Seriously, Ranma. Why pick someone with little to no interest in the martial arts to run a dojo?"

"Simple. It's a matter of strengths. You'll run it like a business, freeing up your dad and Akane to teach." He paused to look each member of the family in the eye. "I want to bring respectability to the School and that means ditching the pervert's reputation."

"Does that mean we're changing the name?" Nabiki asked.

"Whatever it takes, Nabiki-chan." Ranma said heavily, rubbing his temples. "Whatever it takes."

Everyone seemed to weigh those words for a time, before Nabiki broke the silence.

"You didn't answer my other question – where are you going to be?"

Ranma seemed to weigh the inquiry carefully before answering.

"Kasumi needs a break from here and to be honest, so do I. We're going to look into some things, pick up some new techniques for the School, and make an extended training journey out of it."

"How romantic." Nabiki drawled. "A training journey for a honeymoon. You're a real class act, Saotome."

"Yes, he is isn't he?"

Kasumi reappeared from the kitchen, a bit more controlled than she had been. Nabiki noted that her eyes were a bit puffy, but she didn't look half as tired as she had before she bathed. She settled comfortably beside Ranma again, looping her arm in his possessively and resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. Soun opened his mouth to speak, but Kasumi closed her eyes and held up her hand.

"I will not hear you tonight, Father." Nabiki was surprised at how cold her voice sounded. It was almost a perfect imitation of Ranma's voice when he was deep in the Soul of Ice. "It may take me a long time to hear what you have to say."

"I understand." Nabiki's father looked heartbroken, but it was hard to feel sympathy for him in light of the mess he'd made of things.

"I'm glad that you do." Kasumi sighed and softened her voice a bit. "Forgiveness is easy to give, forgetting however will be very difficult. Take the time to reevaluate your life, Father. Find the man that loved Mother so much and bring him back to us. If you can do that, and prove to my sisters that you are a responsible man again, then we will talk. If you cannot, then there is nothing left for us to speak of in this life."

Nabiki bit her lip to keep from whistling. That was a heavy ultimatum.

I guess there are limits to everyone's patience, even someone like Kasumi.

"Ranma?"

Nodoka, who had been quiet all this time, hesitantly brought attention to herself. Nabiki could see the desperation hidden behind her eyes, and could guess what was on the woman's mind.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Will you be gone long this time?"

Ranma seemed to think about it for a moment and shrugged.

"I ain't plannin' on puttin' a time limit on the trip. Kasumi deserves a long vacation."

Nodoka nodded sadly. Kasumi wrapped her arm around the dejected woman and squeezed her close.

"Would you like to join us for a while, Mother?"

"I wouldn't want to intrude…" Sheesh! She was a worse liar than Ranma! "You'll obviously want time to get to know each other."

Ranma and Kasumi glanced at one another and chuckled at some inside joke. Nabiki watched them both pick up a hand in unison and smiled.

"I think we can manage to find some time here and there, Mom." Ranma grinned.

"I don't want to be a burden. It's just, now that I've divorced your father…" Everyone gaped as another bomb was dropped. Nabiki shook her head at yet another surprise, as Nodoka continued. "…the house will be empty again."

Ranma wrapped his arm around his mother's waist and hugged her close.

"You've been alone enough, Mom. Kasumi and I would love to have you along." He looked Soun in the eye over his mother's head. "Family is everything, and we ain't about to abandon you like Genma did."

Soun nodded showing that he understood Ranma's message, as Nodoka swept her son and daughter-in-law into a backbreaking embrace. Nabiki watched the events unfold and saw something wonderful budding for the future. It wasn't exactly what she wanted but, from what Ranma's expectations were, it was a good place to start.

She listened to the couple talk about things that needed to be done, and noticed Akane and her father slipping out of the room. For Soun, he had much to think about. Plans needed to be made and she intended to sit him down first thing in the morning for a brainstorming session. The first thing they would need would be a new name, and then they would need to set out some serious goals for both the dojo and the family. She would have to corner Akane and see if they couldn't invite Ms. Hinako or Ms. Omeda over for dinner. Maybe they could get Daddy to help Ms. Hinako with those pressure points…

She repressed a giggle. That would definitely keep him busy!

More plans flashed through her mind as she tried to organize herself. She hadn't even agreed to run the dojo yet, and already she was deep in planning mode. She shook her head and felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Kasumi and Nodoka exiting the room, probably to go up and change. She followed Ranma's hand up to his face and smiled.

"Well, it seems that you've hooked me, Saotome."

"Good. Maybe it will keep you out of trouble then." He grinned

"Moi? Please, Saotome. Since when have I ever been in trouble?" She laughed and he laughed with her. It was a nice change. "So any idea where you'll start out?"

Ranma shook his head.

"Nope. And I don't really care either. So long as Kasumi's with me, one place is as good as the next."

Nabiki sized him up shrewdly.

"You've really grown up, Ranma."

"About time, eh?"

She chuckled.

"Seriously. You've changed almost over night." Nabiki prodded him in the ribs with a finger. Ranma shrugged.

"Had a good reason to." Ranma looked up to the ceiling thoughtfully and smiled.

"You really love her, don't you?" To her surprise and wonder he nodded without stumbling once. "What about Akane?"

"What about her?"

"Do you still have feelings for her?" Ranma looked at Nabiki thoughtfully.

"I'll always have feelings for her Nabiki. She was the first." He paused and looked to the ceiling again. "But Kasumi's the last. Akane will find someone else – someone that will make her laugh."

He looked down at her shrewdly and grinned.

"You will too, if you can find someone with a big enough wallet."

"Ouch! Have you been practicing, Saotome? That almost sounded like a dig."

Ranma shrugged, and his face slowly changed from playful to professional.

"I don't know about you, but I'm sick and tired of being the butt of everyone's jokes. That's why I'm trusting you with our family's future, Nabiki." The weight of his statement and the weight of his stare made her shiver. "Make something of us…something we can all be proud of."

He placed his hands on her shoulders again and stared her down. It was the first time she had ever felt…small in the presence of Ranma Saotome.

"What happened to you?" She whispered.

"Same thing that happened to you when your mom died." He said quietly. "I took control."

She nodded and smiled broadly.

"So, Boss. Do you have any requests, or are you giving me a blank check here?"

Ranma matched her smile.

"Beyond making this dojo the most popular one in the world…just one."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Get Kurumi and Natsumi back. Your dad's gonna need them to fill the void, and they need a place to call home. They can teach in the dojo and maybe become joint heirs to the School if they're interested."

Nabiki nodded and raised an eyebrow.

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?" To her pleasure and secret relief, Ranma just shook his head.

"Hell no! I'm just making it up as I go." They laughed and Nabiki was happy that not everything had changed over night.

"So what got you thinking about the 'Not-so-Tendo' Tendo sisters all of the sudden?"

Ranma shrugged.

"Kasumi's always worryin' about 'em. She tries ta keep in touch with 'em, ta see how they're doin' and stuff." He shrugged again. "I just want her ta know that they're bein' cared for. I hate seein' her worry."

"Me too." Nabiki admitted. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah. Lay off the old lecher." Nabiki raised her eyebrow. "I gave him my word that we wouldn't mess with him, unless he messed with us. So if he comes back to the neighborhood, just stay outta his way."

"That should be doable, and when Genma decides to show up?"

"Remind your dad about what I said, and if he looks like he's ready to crack under the pressure tell him that I've given you permission to sell the dojo if he breaks his word."

"That should make him think twice." Nabiki clucked. "That reminds me. We'll need a way to contact you so that if anything official does come down the pipe, you can get back here as soon as possible."

"I'll talk ta Kasumi about it in the mornin' and we'll see what we can come up with."

He yawned and stretched, rolling his neck to work out a stiff muscle as he went. "Anythin' else?"

"No, that should be about…" She paused and tapped her bottom lip. "Well, now that you mention it, there is something."

"Lay it on me."

Nabiki grinned mischievously and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Ranma's cheek. He had the decency to blush and touch his cheek.

"You're lucky Kasumi got to you first. I was looking forward to taking another crack at you myself."

"You must really think I'm crazy." He smiled widely. "I barely survived the first time around!"

"Too bad really. It would have been marvelous!"

"You're gonna make some lucky guy really happy, Nabiki-chan." To her surprise and wonder, Ranma hugged her. After a moment she melted and hugged him back.

"Welcome to the family, Ranma-kun."

**************

End Chapter 01


	7. The Horae

All character's belong to their respective creators/owners.

No owls were harmed in the production of this fanfic.

**************

The Moirae, Greek equivalents to the Norns, controlled the destiny of all life from the time of birth to the inevitability of death. Clotho, the spinner, spun the thread of life. Lachesis, the apportioner, measured the length of life, and Atropos, the inevitable, cut the thread of life when the time came. Hags all three, the Fates were feared for their power, even by the gods themselves, for they held all life in their fingertips. But, as powerful as they were, even they dreaded an authority as great as, or greater, than theirs.

The Horae, goddesses of the seasons, shared an intimate sisterhood with the Moirae, and held sway over nature and the ebb and flow of trends and beliefs. Their names were feared by the Moirae, for their influence over man – for who could have power over mankind, when there was no belief in the hearts of men to fuel that power?

Eunomia, the rod of good order, set men on their paths. Dike, the scales of justice, judged man and god alike in their spheres, and Eirene, the horn of mercy and peace, soothed the fires of justice and order with a profound and nurturing love. These sisters represented law and order and life to every society; and as such they controlled the growth of all natural things and maintained the stability of civilization in all its forms.

After the debacle of the infamous Bet, there was little doubt that someone would be getting a visit from one of these two groups. It was one thing to toy with Fate, and another to usurp it entirely. When both the Moirae and the Horae descended on Mimir's Well, all bets were off…pun fully intended. Everyone involved pointed to Toltiir and wondered if the elder god of mischief might have finally over stepped his bounds. But the divine sisterhoods ignored the Black Cat as he calmly walked from the room of the Oracle. His muzzle held a confident smirk, but the sisters paid the rogue no heed as they entered and sealed the door behind them. Neither group bothered to take notice of the ripples in the Mirror of Fate, where a trio of magical children had fallen not moments before.

The meeting at Mimir's Well was a more pressing affair, and no one was meant to know what happened behind those closed doors on this day. Well, no one except Him, and He wasn't telling anybody anything…

…or was He?

**************

Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos looked across the small pool of water to their sisters wearily. Eunomia, Dike, and Eirene stood impassively in the wane light that filtered through the tangled roots that made up the ceiling of the small cavern above them. Since the Advent and the Reconfiguration, Mimir's Well had become sort of a conglomeration of many of the Oracles of Wisdom from every pantheon. It was also the most neutral ground for groups such as these to meet.

The Moirae had changed a great deal since the Reconfiguration. They weren't any where near as ugly as they had been. They weren't beautiful by any major standards either. The best one could say, was that they were…plain.

Clotho wrapped her knitted cardigan a bit closer around her plump shoulders, and tucked a stringy piece of brown hair behind her right ear. She absently bit her fingernails and stared off into space from time to time. Her chubby feet were bare, and her belly was large with life. She had coined that awful phrase "barefoot and pregnant" oh, so long ago in complaint to being perpetually with child. She didn't mind being the mother of all life on the face of the earth, she was just sick of never being able to see her feet.

Lachesis pressed her coke-bottle glasses further up her oversized nose and rolled her tiny shoulders, trying to dispel the discomfort in lower back. She would scratch her posterior absent-mindedly and shuffle every once in a while, causing her battered, black and white high tops to squeak loudly on the damp stone of the cave floor. She blinked incessantly and continuously murmured about inches, meters, centimeters, and so forth and so on. It was terribly distracting for the first few minutes, but eventually her mumbling became white noise in the background.

Atropos…well, Atropos merely stood, straight backed and poised before the pool. Her black hair was pulled back into a severe bun that made her skinny face almost seem gaunt. If anyone would win an award for the scariest governess/nun/sadistic schoolteacher…it would be her. There was a certain finality that lingered about her, that seemed to say: "The-Buck-Stops-Here-Do-Not-Pass-Go-Do-Not-Collect-$200."

None of the three looked very healthy at all. Not compared to their sisters across the way. In truth they seemed fairly pathetic in an odd, mismatched sort of way, nothing at all like the Hands of Destiny that they were.

Eunomia, Dike, and Eirene looked fresh and new. There was something more mercurial about them and yet at the very same moment, something incredibly more rigid. The paradox of their surface and depth offset the crude reality of the Moirae completely. Eunomia wore a set of expensive black pinstriped slacks and a creamy white v-neck blouse that complimented her sunny blonde hair. Her shoes were leather and very, very expensive.

Dike on the other hand, seemed more straightforward and down to earth. Her ensemble consisted of a pair of comfortably worn jeans, a navy blue t-shirt decorated with a set of golden scales and a silver sword, and a pair of black, thick-soled "dog-kickers" – the kind that a postman would use.

Out of everyone gathered, no one seemed more out of place than Eirene. Her soft compassionate smile was the antithesis of everyone else. Her pure white dress and warm brown locks seemed to invite the sunshine into the room. There was an air of freedom about the ageless woman that none of the others seemed to be able to match. Her tan skin and lively green eyes made you want to grow, just by looking at them. It was unnerving to those that were so stuck in their ways.

"This needs to be settled." Atropos said severely. One must wonder if everything was severe about the supernatural entity.

"It was settled." Eunomia said placidly. "The Fairy Queen had her day."

"But the idea yet lingers." Lachesis whined. Her voice was high pitched and nasally. "Others are tempted to try their hands."

"It is compassion that motivates the temptation." Eirene's soft smile lit up the room.

"Compassion or Pride?" Clotho wondered distractedly.

"It must be dealt with." Atropos demanded. "The idea must be silenced."

"It cannot be silenced." Eunomia countered.

"These gods meddle in our domain." Atropos seethed. "They usurp the natural order set down in the Charter."

"All will be judged accordingly." Dike's voice echoed quietly off the walls of the cavern.

"It is not enough. Reparations must be made." Atropos never once raised her voice. She didn't need to.

"That is not for you to judge." Dike rolled her neck tiredly.

"There must be an end to all of this."

"Every end is a wondrous new beginning." Eirene smiled and knelt smoothly before the pool, spreading her unblemished skirts out around her as she leaned forward precariously, to look into the depths of the pond. Dike knelt beside her and peered into the Well's depths to seemingly check her hair. Eunomia settled opposite Dike and casually plucked up an odd golden box near the water's edge. Her examination revealed it to be a box of Bertie Bot's finest and she yielded to the inevitable curiosity of her sweet tooth. Sadly, green was always a gamble with Every Flavor Beans.

"Ugh! Toe Jam!" Much spitting and gagging occurred, followed by a string of epitaphs concerning wizards and their lack of common sense.

Poor Ron. The goddess of good order was going to make sure that he'd learn to be more mindful of his things by the time all of this business was done.

"This cannot be allowed to go on!" Atropos' voice was filled with indignation.

Dike looked at the Moirae impishly. She raised an elegant finger and lightly touched the pool just so.

"Wanna bet?"

**************

Molly O'Reilly silently stepped from the pre-dawn shadows between number Five and number Seven. Privet Drive was unnaturally still this morning, bereft of animal noises and the sound of the wind through the few cookie cutter trees. She watched the front door of Number Four dispassionately, knowing that the inhabitants wouldn't be up for quite some time…more than long enough for her to do what she came here to accomplish.

It was sad really.

Here he lay, this child of prophesy, completely vulnerable to all the horrors of the world. His only hope lay in the charity of a woman that knew nothing of the virtue. Tim had shown her a number of the boy's potential fates, none of which were particularly bright. This Dumbledore's tin was short a few biscuits, and it hadn't taken very much convincing on her part to convince her Timothy to step in on young Harry's behalf. Having been manipulated himself, her lover could read all the signs – it didn't take a crystal ball to see what Albus Dumbledore had in store for The-Boy-Who-Lived. Martyrs were all well and good if they were the one's doing the martyring; but when a barmy old codger was pulling the strings to that end, and for a one-year-old child…? Well, Molly couldn't abide puppeteers.

"Well, are you going to do this thing or not?"

Molly spun, drawing a rune covered Berretta in one hand and a gleaming crystal dagger in the other in one smooth motion that seemed little more than a blur and a flash. The man before her held up his hands and backed up a step with a charming grin. He was a bit ratty around the edges, smelling of cigarettes and cheap bourbon. If anything John Constantine reminded Molly of a nasty little mushroom…he was always popping up where he wasn't really wanted.

"Damn it John! I almost shot you!"

"And you can be sure that I'm thankful that you didn't." He grinned cheekily. "As grateful as I am for not having holes in my chest right now, that doesn't mean you can dodge my question."

"I'm getting to it Constantine. It's not like he's going anywhere."

"Love, our young Timothy Hunter is pretty much God's gift to Magic, but even he can't divert the eyes of old Dumb Door indefinitely. So, if you don't mind, getting the lead out?" He nudged her forward as she holstered her weapons, pulling a beaten cigarette out of the inner pocket of his long, brown trench coat. Molly playfully kicked John in the shin, causing him to drop his unlit cigarette and curse a blue streak as his lit match burnt his fingers.

"Teach you to talk about a woman's weight, Constantine."

The aggrieved troubleshooter grumbled something unflattering and endured a very un-lady like gesture from Molly as she spun away. As she stealthily crossed Privet Drive to collect the large whicker basket on the stoop of Number Four, three more figures stepped from the shadows between the houses. She knew them well, so paid them no heed as she crossed into the yard and mounted the steps. Their presence here was little more than extra protection, not to mention another reminder that the clock was ticking. John was right, Tim's window of opportunity would be closing all too soon.

Her first sight of the baby melted her heart and caused her maternal instincts to roar. The child's dark hair was just as unruly as Tim's and his cherubic face was marred by an angry gash, shaped like a lightning bolt. It looked to have been tended recently though, as she could see that it had just barely scabbed over.

"Bloody gits didn't even bother to bandage the cut."

Molly tucked the baby's blanket in a bit tighter as she grumbled curses in a number of Fae languages. She grabbed the basket's handle, pausing idly to note the layered enchantments on it. She closed her eyes and cursed again as the protective spells on the whicker pannier moved against her.

"Zatanna!" Molly did her best not to panic as she quietly called out for help. Her body was frozen and a sense of cold began creeping up her arm. A layer of frost began to form over the skin of her fingers and hands. "They've spelled the damn basket!"

In a heartbeat another dark-haired woman appeared at Molly's side. Her hands hovered over the bassinet, yet did not touch it.

"Esaeler ot em ruoy syek!" The whicker basket glowed for a moment and a web of light hovered before her eyes. "Damn. This is going to be tricky."

Molly watched with growing trepidation as the frost changed to ice.

"Zeeee!"

"It's going to be okay, Molly. Try to relax." The proclaimed Mistress of Magic smiled reassuringly through the web of light. "Uncle Nick and Auntie Pear taught me how to work through these. All we need is to find the Gordian Knot to cut."

"Where's that?" Molly squeaked as the ice covered her elbow.

"That's the trick now, isn't Love?" John appeared beside Zatanna's elbow and took a long drag off his cancer stick. He casually blew a large smoke ring into the air over the bassinet and earned himself a rather painful smack upside his head from both women for his efforts.

"Not around the baby, John."

"What happens if you get the wrong one?"

John looked at the magical tapestry hanging before him and tapped his chin. Clenching his cigarette between two fingers he grinned and pointed to a number of different "nodes" along the web.

"Implosion. Immolation. Cherry flavored frozen Molly-Pop." John's grin was totally irreverent. His little jab at Molly's sexual purity earned him a wicked right cross that planted his bum in the middle of the street.

"Oy! What is this? Abuse-John-Day?" The women simply glared at the man until he surrendered and stepped back to let Zatanna work.

"I hate to say it girlfriend, but the limey jerk's got the right of it. If I cut the wrong one, then you will experience a layered cascade of rather nasty traps and curses that you will live through."

"It might be more humane to just let you die." The fourth figure of their party stepped into the light given off by the magical web. Rose Spiritus, the yin to Richard Occult's yang, gazed on the spell construct with a critical eye and traced a confounding path above the strands with her finger.

"Why not try revealing the keystone then?" Constantine called back grumpily. His face lit up as he ignited another match for a new cigarette. "Should save you about four or five days of looking."

Three sets of feminine displeasure looked his way in annoyance, but the Hellblazer ignored them in favor of taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"I hate it when he's right." Zatanna mumbled. Molly snorted and tried to ignore the numbness that was taking over her shoulder. "Okay, let's do this thing."

Zatanna took a deep breath and rolled her neck before opening herself to the well of power deep in her soul.

"Laever ruoy eroc!"

The web seemed to…well, "invert" was probably the best way to describe it. It twisted and then turned itself inside out before coalescing into three floating balls of light about the size of a large orange.

"Well, crap." Zatanna huffed and placed her hands on her hips.

"Three knots…" Rose whistled and shook her head. "Simultaneous severing?"

"Obviously." Zatanna nodded. "And we're a third mage short."

"Can't one of you cut two?" Molly wasn't doing such a good job of keeping the panic out of her voice now, mainly because the ice had covered a quarter of her throat and the entire upper half of her left breast.

Rose shook her head.

"Sorry Dear. Not enough power."

"So, what now?" Molly squeaked.

"Let the freezing take its course and have Tim thaw you out?"

"You're a right insensitive bastard, John Contantine!" Molly barked.

"That he may be, Molly O'Reilly, but even he has his uses." The arrival of a new voice caused everyone to spin. Magic boiled at the ready, waiting to be released, and in Molly's case, her Beretta was drawn and pointed at the source of the unexpected voice. The figure, "You may stand down friends, I mean you no ill will."

"Stranger!" Rose Spiritus deflated visibly as the Brotherless One stepped from the darkness. The Phantom Stranger nodded to Constantine as he passed him. John returned the greeting with a cheeky salute and forced smile. The tension in the air eased noticeably.

"Well now! The bloody Trenchcoat Brigade is afoot again! All that's missing now is the blind loony and we'll have the complete set."

"Do not invoke him John Constantine." The Phantom Stranger chastised. His empty eyes turned to regard the Hellblazer for a moment before turning back to the problem at hand. "If Timothy Hunter, unspoiled as he was, earned that one's ire, what then would he say of Harry Potter?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zatanna challenged.

"Another time, Zatanna. We have more pressing concerns." He nodded to Molly who, by now, had ice around her jaw and over much of her chest. There was a distinctly blue tint to her exposed skin, and were it not for the ice her teeth would surely be chattering. "Come. We must unmake this enchantment before it moves any further."

The "unmaking" was terribly anti-climactic for Molly. The trio of mystics presented themselves before the spheres of light and after a moment of silence, the ice and the magical Gordian knots were gone. Even so, Molly's chill remained – but that was something a hot shower, some cocoa, and a little bit of judicious cuddling with her boyfriend would cure. The young woman was torn from her little dream by the sound of clapping, and turned to see John smiling smugly from around his cigarette.

"Well done! Now, can we go before the Old Man decides to show up and investigate why his wards around the boy suddenly failed? Or maybe you'd like to have the guided tour of Azkaban before the night is done."

Zatanna rolled her eyes and shook her head. Rose smirked and mumbled something about "melodramatic idiots" before walking back into the shadows. Zatanna took the bassinet from Molly so the young woman could rub some of the circulation back into her extremities. She and John followed Rose into the shadows, subsequently disappearing from Privet Drive completely. Thus, Molly was left alone with the Phantom Stranger – which, in and of itself, was a bit beyond creepy. She smiled up at him and started walking to her shadow hole.

"Molly O'Reilly."

Damn. She knew he was going to do that.

"His potential rivals and in some ways surpasses Timothy Hunter's. For that reason alone Evil desires him; alive or dead it matters not. If they cannot subvert him, they will see him destroyed. Guide him. Protect him. Raise him well."

"I will." She nodded. The moment she spoke, an invisible weight began to press down on Molly's shoulders. The slight, familiar, tingle along her nerve endings told her that something magical had occurred. "I just committed myself to the long haul, didn't I?"

"Thankfully, Molly O'Reilly." The Phantom Stranger's eyes glowed white for a moment as he looked heavenward. "There are very few worthy of this undertaking, and fewer still that I would entrust the future of our world to."

"Great. No pressure." Molly sighed as she stepped between number Five and Seven. "Well, at the very least this might give Tim a clue. After all, Harry's going to need a proper mother and father isn't he?"

"Indeed, Molly O'Reilly. That he will." The edges of the Phantom Stranger's mouth quirked into a tiny smile for the first time in a very, very long time and Molly couldn't help but be amazed at what she saw.

**************

Mimir's Well

"I love the irony." The impish voice echoed on the walls of the cavern.

"YOU!" Atropos hissed at the sight of the small black cat lounging on the ledge of the cavern wall opposite her.

"Me." The Trickster's tone couldn't have been more smug. The cat stood and stretched languidly before jumping down to brush up against Dike's calf. "So, what happens next, Beautiful?"

Eirene took the opportunity to scoop the personification of Mischief into her lap and began stroking his fur. From the way Toltiir was purring, the experience was heavenly.

"Hedonist." Dike snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Ohhhh…[purrrrrrr]…you have no idea!" The Moirae seemed, if anything, even more offended by the display before them than they were with the abuse of the Well. "Stop dodging the question and tell us what happens already."

Dike frowned a bit and crossed her arms expectantly. Eirene ceased her attentions long enough for Toltiir to catch a glimpse of her sister's displeasure.

"…er…Please?" The black cat shivered nervously under the scrutiny of the combined attentions of the Fates. His amendment was enough for Eirene though, and soon she resumed her sinful petting.

"Molly eventually convinces Timothy to marry her, but it takes her almost three years to wear him down." Eunomia grinned as she conjured a spongy couch with fluffy yellow pillows large enough for her and her sisters to lounge on. "In the end she has to resort to dirty tactics though."

"How's she manage it?" Toltiir purred.

"She sends Harry in to ask Tim why he can't have a real daddy like his friends." Dike's grin grew wider. "Between that and John's jokes about 'living in sin' – Tim finally gets the courage to ask Molly to marry him. They have a spring wedding."

"So what happens to Harry?"

"He grows up in a loving home, with people like Zatanna and John Constantine as role models. Tefe Holland and a few others are drafted on a number of occasions as babysitters. This of course gives Harry a broader understanding of Magic and the gray line that separates Good from Evil, and the sharp boundary between Order and Chaos. He is extremely happy and enjoys playing practical jokes on the various adults in his life with the help of the Hellblazer."

"Really?"

Dike nodded and laughed.

"He and John end up releasing a horde of stuffed Pokemon in Tala's little corner of Hell. They were of course self-replicating when attacked with magic, so you can imagine the devastation they wrought on the self-styled Queen of Evil." Toltiir giggled at the image of Tala being assaulted by an army of fuzzy Pikachus and fluffy Squirtles. "Uncle Rich and Auntie Rose come from time to time and take the family on fieldtrips to the various realities. Harry is particularly fond of the Dreaming and Gemworld, but has a soft spot for Faerie. He melts Titania's cold heart and in a fit of jealousy she tries to steal him from Molly and Tim. This of course doesn't sit well, and it takes Harry's intervention to save the Faerie Queen from destruction at the hands of the Hunters.

"Harry, of course, becomes the balm that soothes the wounds, and he is named a Prince of Faerie by both Auberon and Titania – the first mortal to ever earn the distinction. This of course comes with a number of caveats and responsibilities that won't come to light until Harry is older."

"Marriage contract?" Toltiir's grin was positively electric. This seemed to be the last straw for the Moirae, for they stomped from the Well muttering curses under their breaths. Well, Atropos stomped. Clotho and Lachesis slunk, obviously intrigued but unable to satisfy their curiosity.

"Plural." Dike admitted. "Harry becomes a bit of a magical bridge between a number of worlds – Skartaris, Faerie, Hell, and Death herself loses her heart to a pair of soulful, emerald eyes. He isn't a Ranma Saotome, but there are enough romantic threads to make your head dance."

"And Hogwarts?" It was an odd sight to see a black cat energetically bouncing and clapping in the lap of a beautiful woman, but it was happening. "What happens at Hogwarts?"

"His letter comes unimpeded and Molly feels that Harry needs to be around other children his age in a more social environment. Timothy has reservations, but is worn down by the combined efforts of Harry, Molly and finally Zatanna's uncle, Nicholas Flamel."

"Flamel? The immortal, Philosopher's Stone, Nicholas Flamel?"

"Yes. Zatanna comes from a wonderfully rich family tree." Eunomia giggled.

"Oh, that was just bad." Dike palmed her face.

"Who else is hiding in her closet?" Toltiir asked.

"Her mother was Sindella." Eirene supplied helpfully.

"Homo Magi. Wow." Toltiir whistled.

"She can trace her blood back to Leonardo Da Vinci, and on her mother's side she is not so distantly related to Harry – second cousins once removed, or something like that." Dike waved the thought off. "At any rate, Harry rides the train and hooks up with the Weasley Twins in the middle of a prank. Harry of course points out some serious flaws in their plans, subsequently saving them from getting caught. The prank, (involving a compartment full of lemon pudding, Percy Weasley, and Harry throwing his voice) is a complete success, earning Harry a place of honor with the twins.

"Harry meets Hermione and Neville, and the fated Toad-hunt goes much better than before, but ends with a confrontation between this new trio and Draco Malfoy. The Slytherin pretty boy tries to intimidate Harry, but after facing the likes of Tannarak and Tala, the Boy-Who-Lived is less than impressed. He wandlessly turns Draco into a beautiful rendition of Bottom, complete with an Ass' head and tail. The resulting consequences of that meeting are felt later in the form of Harry's first detention with Snape, but the friendships that are built from that event are stronger than in the original timeline."

"And Dumbledore?"

"Meets his match in the form of Tim and Molly Hunter. The events of the first year play out as normal, and Tim (with no prompting from Molly at all) takes steps to see that nothing like that can happen again. With friends like Constantine and Nick Flamel backing him, it takes very little pressure on the Board of Governors to put Dumbles in his place. John is hired on as the Defense teacher over Lockheart, the Phantom Stranger takes over as a temporary instructor for History of Magic, and Tim manages to get a few other "friends" hired on in new and resurrected classes. Things go smoothly until the end of the term in Second year, when Ginny is taken. Harry, Tim, and John tackle the Riddle diary – without the aid of Fawkes and the sword of Griffindor. Ginny dies though and Harry confronts Death for her soul."

"This is where Death falls for him, isn't it?" Toltiir grinned.

"Nope. This is where John Constantine flubs everything up and somehow manages to broker a marriage contract with Desire on behalf of Death. Destiny shows up and says it's binding, and Ginny Weasley is the dowry." Toltiir was laughing so hard, he fell off Eirene's lap.

"…beautiful…[pant]…just beautiful!"

"Third year's even better. John doesn't come back, due to complaints from parents about his smoking and a little engagement in Hell's fifth circle. Lupin however steps in and bolster's Dumbledore's hopes that some form of control can be garnered with Harry through the werewolf's past with Harry's parents. It doesn't really happen though, in spite of the friendship that develops. Thirteen being the age of majority in Faerie, brings more wifely candidates coming out of the woodwork. Sirius Black escapes and rampages until one of Bastet's daughters, finds and exposes Pettigrew. Timothy is beyond upset at the thought of Dementors around his son and does something about them. He then calls Fudge on the carpet for endangering the children of England. The Minister doesn't recover from the political blow, especially when someone (cough-Molly-cough) uncovers the politician's questionable banking practices. Lupin's found out by Malfoy and sacked, bringing Dumbledore under the scrutiny of the public eye. He weathers it better than Fudge, but Lupin still gets the boot. Molly and Tim talk to Zatanna, and she hires him as a stage hand for her shows."

"Love interest?" Toltiir asked.

"Possibly. Lupin becomes an indispensable part of her crew, and eventually she will help him find a cure. At the very least he is more stable than Constantine."

The cat nodded.

"Fourth year?"

"More fiancées from Faerie. Titania and Auberon make a contest out of the idea, and the entire Faerie Court takes it to the extreme to find Harry Potter the best wife possible. Couple that with the Tri-Wizard Tournament and things get really out of hand. The Veela covens, tied as they are to Faerie, toss in their own contestant for Harry's hand. The fact that she is also a participant in the tournament is anything but a happy coincidence. Harry's name is still dropped in the Goblet by Crouch, but between Tim and Sirius the whole school understands that something is wrong about Harry's participation. Events play out, with a marginal adherence to the original event. More deviations occur due to the number of women vying for Harry's heart and attention. Hermione Granger is one of the chief among those looking to get close to the Boy-Who-Lived. The fact that she reminds Harry of his adoptive mother seems to give her an edge."

"What happens to Moldy-shorts?" The cat frowned.

"He's resurrected. But instead of Pettigrew handling the ritual, it's Crouch. Cedric dies as per the norm, but this time around Fleur and Victor are tag alongs. Harry saves them and manages to escape with Cedric's body, but not before getting a nice comforting kiss from Death before returning. With that many witnesses and a much more competent Minister (Amelia Bones), Voldemort's reign of terror is really hindered. It takes him two years to gather the resources and the personnel necessary to raid Azkaban, but by then the lines are pretty well drawn in the sand. Dumbledore reveals the contents of the prophecy and the final conflict starts to build from there."

"So what's the final outcome?" The Elder God of Mischief looked up from the comfort of Eirene's arms.

"See for yourself." Dike motioned towards the pool, causing the waters to glow brightly. Toltiir did as he was bade and his eyes widened dramatically.

"Whoa!" He chanced a look at each of the sisters and grinned. "You can't be serious!"

Dike winked at the laughing cat.

"Wanna bet?"


	8. IDSSSR 01

IDSSSR

Author's note:

Special thanks goes out to the many people on CaerAzkaban for their input and support, both private and public. Thanks for helping me refine this and keeping the interest in it alive. Thanks again for reading!

Enjoy.

Chapter One

**************

For want of freedom

**************

Hello. My name is Jean Grey. I am an omega-level mutant. That basically means that I sit at the top of the food chain in regards to power and genetic ability. I'm not alone here at the top; there are others like me, but as a group we are rare. Some of our abilities include: immortality, extreme manipulation of matter and energy, incredible psionic abilities, molecular telekinesis, and the potential to exist beyond the boundaries of the known physical universe. Considering that I can do just about all of those things in some form or fashion, means that I am in the upper echelons – an Alpha Omega if you will.

I am, at this moment, in between lives.

It should be noted that I'm not speaking metaphorically. I died and now I'm waiting to come back to life. How is that possible? There are quite a few ways really. There is the popular view of reincarnation, the traditional view of the Heavenly reward that my parents taught me as a child, various forms of memory and psychic transmission, undeath, and then of course my personal favorite – resurrection by the Phoenix Force.

The Phoenix Force is a primal essence of the universe. It is eternal and tends to embrace the hottest of passions. It is the essence of fire and the spark of life. It consumes, with the intent to make way for new life. The Phoenix Force has ever been the truest example of the circle of life. It is the beginning and the end, an eternal cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Somewhere along the way, this omega-level mutant merged itself with that omega-level universal essence to become something more and something less than we were alone. I have been a heroine, a wife, a mother, and a villain. I have been a goddess and a demon. I have saved the universe and destroyed worlds. Just recently, I was named the White Phoenix of the Crown. That means I'm the queen.

But at the core, I will always consider myself a red-headed woman.

And this red-headed woman is bored out of her metaphysical skull.

**************

Washu was bored. For the universe's number one genius that was a rarity. Usually there were any number of things that could keep her occupied: experiments, playing with Tenchi, scientific break-throughs, watching the others play with Tenchi, delving the mysteries of Creation, watch Tenchi beat the crap out of some upstart, play mind games with Ryoko, and occasionally asking questions that no man or god should ever think - let

alone utter. Toss Mihoshi in there to mix things up and she was generally a very busy person.

Sadly, Tenchi was gone with the rest of the household on a little excursion to the southern islands. This meant that the house was quiet. That was a good thing at the beginning of the month when her work load had been completely backed up, but now it was the end and she'd finished everything on her to-do list yesterday morning. Damn it all. She hated being so freaking awesome!

With no experiments in the works, and no prime time Tenchi to enjoy, Washu found herself flipping through television channels. The fact that said television had just about every channel in creation, meant that there had to be something on.

Sadly, out of the three million seven hundred thousand one hundred and seventy six channels that she'd flipped through, she still hadn't found anything more interesting than unrealistic porn and infomercials. She was starting to lose hope when she happened upon channel three million seven hundred thousand one hundred and seventy seven, for there staring back at her was a very beautiful red headed woman in a skin tight, painted on, white and gold costume.

At first Washu thought it to be just another attempt at bad porn, but the bored look on the woman's face seemed to belie that conclusion. Second, though she had a body that most humanoid porn stars would gladly kill for, the woman in question looked waaay too intelligent for really late night TV.

"Hey."

The fact that the woman had just spoken to her through the television, while not unheard of, was unexpected.

"Hey." Washu tried to keep the interest out of her voice. It wouldn't do at all to sound too desperate.

"What'cha doing?"

Washu winced at how...well, she didn't really think there was an adjective in any language she knew that could describe the level of boredom the other woman was channeling. It was almost as much as she was feeling herself.

"Watching television. You?"

"Nothing." The woman sighed.

"Do you want to come over?"

"Sure. You like chocolate ice cream?"

"Is the core temperature of Terra's sun fifteen point six million degrees Celsius?"

The woman in white grinned and then vanished from the screen, only to reappear on the couch next to Washu. Under one arm was a huge tub of "Death-by-chocolate-orgasm" ice cream and in her other hand were two silver spoons.

"Want to see if anyone else is bored?"

Washu was never quite certain why she'd invited Jean Grey over; perhaps it was the sense of desperation mixed with a healthy douse of kindred spirits, but in the end she would be glad for it.

"Why not?"

And thus, the first unofficial meeting of the Inter-dimensional Sorority of Super Sexy Red Heads was underway. The multiverse at large would never be quite the same.

**************

The First Recruits

**************

Take two beings, one with limitless intellect and another with limitless power and potential, give them a project to save the multi-verse's red heads from boredom and mix in liberal amounts of chocolate. The result was something terrifyingly beautiful.

The Trans-dimensional Reality Gate was a formidable creation. Thanks to a little power from Jean, it could punch through to any reality regardless of the barriers that might happen to be in the way.

That was the first step. The second was choosing who to call up next. Establishing the criteria for this little soiree was as exciting as it was fun. The guests could only be women with red-hair. That was the first rule. The second: they had to have power. It might be elitist of them, but both Washu and Jean wanted to converse with people that could at least understand them. It was a kindred spirit thing. The third rule was a bit more mutable, but easily fixed should someone be lacking. Plainly put, every guest had to be sexy.

As these things are wont to do, the idea quickly spun out of control. By the time the TDRG was completed, both Jean and Washu had come up with the frame work for the Inter-dimensional Sorority of Super Sexy Red Heads. Not only were they out-numbered by blondes and brunettes, they were generally persecuted by those same hair groups for being highly intelligent and sexy. As if it was their fault that men found them desirable!

By the time the TDRG was finished, Washu had programmed the criteria for selecting candidates into the gate's A.I. – leaving Jean to prepare for their guests. Once all preparations were complete, the pair settled down before their creation. The fact that it looked like a large screen television seemed appropriate to both women, considering their first meeting, and so it was only natural that Washu designed its control module to resemble a small remote. As she pressed the small green button in the top left corner of the remote, the gate thrummed to life. Images of women immediately began scrolling across the screen, as the A.I. began its selection process, giving the pair brief glimpses of potential members for their sisterhood.

When it finally settled on the face of a majestic scarlet-haired woman with sitting on a throne of shadows and bones, both women held their breath. The woman turned their way and stared at them for a very long time before smiling darkly. It was a look that simply oozed allure.

"I see you, goddesses."

"Goddesses?" Washu raised an eyebrow.

"You are Choushin, are you not?"

Washu sighed and pouted.

"And she is Phoenix. There in, by all that is, you are goddesses; though you hide it well."

"Thank you!" Jean smiled energetically. "And you are?"

The woman snorted.

"You do not know me? I am surprised."

"Oh, I know you Beryl. But the forms must be observed." Jean offered.

"True." The woman admitted. "But the question must be asked, why have you sought me out? Are you here to challenge me? Have you come to pit your powers against Metalia in bid for this planet?"

"Why would we even think of doing that?" Washu groused. "We all know that those little girls in their cute sei-fuku are going to trounce your eldritch horror."

Beryl bristled and the darkness around her roiled.

"Now Washu-chan, we needn't be catty." Jean smiled warmly. "No, Beryl. We're not here to throw a wrench into your plans or step on your demon's toes. We are here to offer you a day off though."

"A…day…off?" Beryl stumbled over the offer, uncertain. Certainly they were joking. Lulling her into a false sense of security to strike her down?

"Yes. A day off. You see, you are the first we've approached, and we thought it might be nice to just get away from all our worries for a day or so. All work and no play make Jane a dull girl and all that nonsense."

"A day away from my worries?" Beryl mumbled. She looked askance at the pair and shivered. They both certainly had the power to wipe her and Metalia from the face of creation should they truly want; so the offer, no matter how outlandish it may seem, must have been genuine. "What do you want in exchange?"

"Honestly?" Jean asked. "We want nothing more than your company, polite conversation, and the opportunity to let our hair down without judgments or ridicule. We are offering the same in kind."

"That is all?"

"Well, if you have any board games they might come in handy." Washu grinned playfully.

Beryl almost choked on her tongue before coughing and shaking her head.

"I will see what I can dig up."

"Splendid!" Jean clapped happily as a third body joined the party. It didn't take long for Beryl to brow beat one of her "generals" into procuring some board games. The fact that the poor sap had to teleport halfway around the globe to get them wasn't acknowledged. Let the poor man keep what dignity he had. After all, he managed to get "Blind Date" – which had been one of Jean's favorites as a little girl.

And with that, Beryl left her throne room and joined her new companions for a girl's day out. Heaven help the universe at large.

**************

Jean and Beryl left Washu in the lab manning the gate, while they made their way up to main house to continue working on gathering snacks and preparing for the rest of the guests. Alone, and with no real oversight, Washu decided to move things up a bit. Power wasn't everything. Having lived with Tenchi for so long, she realized that the common person had just as much to contribute to a conversation as the nobility.

With that in mind, she changed some of the parameters and opted to search out women that really needed a day off. The first hit was something that chilled Washu to the bone. She'd seen plenty of death and violence in her life. Some of it was clean, and some of it (mostly Kagato's handiwork) was not. The scene before her angered her on so many levels it just wasn't funny.

The poor woman was panicked, clutching her baby to her breast and pacing. She heard her husband call out to her and knew death was coming to their family. The sounds of fierce battle abruptly ended and Washu knew that the husband had fallen. Her own memories pressed her. The day they had come for her son was etched in her heart, and this scene looked all too familiar for Washu Hakubi. She summoned her keyboard and began typing furiously. She wouldn't let it happen again. Never again. If she could lock onto the man's spectral signature, pulling him through and storing him in an astral buffer would be child's play. Once he was safe, they could clone his body and stuff his ectoplasm right back where it belonged.

The scant minutes she had her mind focused on saving the woman's husband cost too much. The man in the black cloak ended her life as quickly as he had the woman's husband. Washu's fingers were a blur and her eyes glowed with power. She wasn't just fishing for one spirit now, but two. She wanted to scream in rage as the man lifted his weapon to the child. She was so close! THERE!

Both spirits were safely stored in their astral buffers, but Washu's triumph was short lived as another flash of green light flared on the screen before her. She screamed in terror and rage, and the power of her anger shot through the gate. The resulting explosion nearly leveled the poor house, and the man in the black cloak was gone. She could find neither hide nor hair of the bastard's spiritual marker due to the fact that she hadn't had time or the desire to lock it in. His body it seemed was atomized bits all over the place.

Fingers flying over the keyboard again, Washu focused on saving the baby. An infant's signal was a veritable ghosts in the machine for the simple fact that they hadn't really made a spiritual footprint yet. It took her two very long minutes to get a reading amidst all the background energy obscuring things. By that time Jean and Beryl had returned, the former sporting an extreme look of concern, while the latter looked somewhat unfazed. Had Washu cared to look closer, she would have noted the slight tightening of Beryl's eyes, and the almost nonexistent frown of her lips that belied her concern.

The small genius whooped in joy as her computer locked onto the baby's astral pattern, but the readings were strange. If she was reading this correctly, the baby was alive! No time was wasted in vanishing the keyboard and leaping through the gate. The smell of burning wood and atomized flesh hung in the air. It made her want to gag, but Washu was made of sterner stuff. She dug through the rubble and found the adorable little boy miraculously unharmed save for a wickedly jagged scar on his forehead. She immediately set to checking him for other unseen injuries whilst simultaneously summoning drones to gather the bodies of the baby's parents. She was going to make this right.

She might not have been able to prevent their deaths at the hands of that mad man, but she could bring them back from the brink of the abyss. No one would suffer like she had if she had her way. Never again.

**************

Jean watched Washu return through the gate with a baby bundled against her now voluptuous chest. Gone was Washu-chan and here was Washu of the Choushin. The fact that this entity was just as powerful as Jean, was humbling and encouraging. She wasn't alone and the burden of power could be shared. She was glad she made the impulsive choice to befriend Washu Hakubi. It was probably one of the best decisions she'd ever made in her rather on and off again life.

"Take the reins Jean. Beryl and I are going to bring this little man's mommy back from the dead."

"We are? Why would we…" Beryl trailed off at the Look in Washu's eyes and simply nodded. There were more preferable ways to commit suicide, like dropping herself in an active volcano or teleporting herself into the core of a star. Crossing Momma Washu was asking to be punished in cruel and unusual ways for the rest of her very long life – Washu's, not Beryl's.

"Come along, Beryl. I'll need a second pair of hands for this."

"Yes, Washu."

"What was that?"

"Yes, Washu-chan."

"Much better!"

Jean shook her head as the pair disappeared into the depths of the lab. With a sigh she divided her attention between telekinetically preparing more snacks upstairs and a dimension away, while simultaneously starting the gate's selection process again. She was unaware of the changes that Washu had made in the program, until the image settled on a birthing mother. The woman's brow was slick with sweat, and her face was terribly pale. From the panicked thoughts she was picking up, she could tell the woman was going to die. The physician in her could already glean that the woman was hemorrhaging. The medics had stopped the obvious bleeding, but the secondary wounds caused by a crude cesarean wouldn't be noticed until it was too late.

"My…baby…" The woman begged.

"Hokage-sama has him, Kushina-sama." One of the nurses wiped the woman's, no, Kushina's brow.

Her relationship to this Hokage person became clear to Jean after a few jumbled thoughts were sorted. Minato was the Hokage. They'd been married in secret to legitimize little Naruto-kun's birth and make him a Namikaze. They'd planned on announcing their marriage after Kushina was recovered enough to protect their son from the enemies within Konoha and without. After all, what fool would dare to confront the Red Death and the Yellow Flash by targeting their son?

"Tell…Minato…want…to…hold…him."

"You need to rest Kushina-sama." The nurse insisted.

"No…need…N'rto…." Kushina's vitals flat-lined and everyone in the room scrambled to bring the kunoichi back from the brink of death.

The hospital shook terribly, as in an earthquake, raining plaster and shattered glass down on all of them. Jean extended her mind and immediately snarled at what was unfolding. The thoughts of the Bijuu were enraged, beyond all reason or control. She knew that she could step in and stop the beast, but in doing so she would sacrifice the one who needed her most. Time wasn't on her side. She couldn't stop the Hokage's plan to end the Kyuubi, but she could interfere enough to make a difference in the lives of his family.

Other enterprising entities were afoot as well. A regular megalomaniac named Danzo was chief among them. The man's thoughts were simply toxic, and Jean wanted very little to do with him. Still, she would have to do something to see that his plans for young Naruto never came to fruition.

"Little touches, Jean. There's no need to be heavy handed here."

Yet, even with that mantra, she could feel her anger rising. The fact that a father would have no recourse but to sacrifice his son in order to jail a demon, twisted her heart. Like Washu, not a quarter hour before her, Jean Grey stepped through the gate and into another universe. She could see the strings of a puppeteer manipulating events here, destroying the lives of the innocent and jaded alike. With each footfall, her passion burned brighter and the flames of her anger grew hotter. Who ever it was playing this game of chess, would regret the day they orchestrated this butchery.

"Rise, Uzumaki Kushina."

The command in her voice would not be denied as the fiery wings of the Phoenix reached out and engulfed the dying woman. Her body was consumed and immediately reformed, healthier and more powerful than before. The pair of ginger haired women stared at one another for a long minute, as Jean unfolded all to the young mother in the blink of an eye.

"You know who I am?" She asked.

"Yes, Phoenix-sama." Kushina's voice was subdued, almost subservient; and in light of just who it was she was speaking to, it was completely understandable.

"You know why I came?"

"To help, Phoenix-sama."

"To help you, Kushina-san. You and your family." Jean stared at the woman long and hard. "I will not interfere in your world more than I have to. To do more is too tempting; and re-writing the reality of this world, while fun on some level, is immoral. I will help your family. Anything else is to be done by you and yours. Do you understand?"

"I…yes, I understand, Phoenix-sama." Kushina nodded.

"Good. Then let us go have a chat with your husband, shall we?"

"Yes. Please." This time her voice was feral and the murderous intent that washed over the room caused more than one medic to pass out. The sound of grinding teeth echoed in the room long after the pair disappeared.

**************

Minato had just sealed the pact with the Shinigami and felt his soul being tugged free. The sensation was highly unpleasant but, considering his gamble had paid off, who was he to complain?

"**I don't think so.**"

He'd heard once that words have power. Some words were backed by so much Emotion or so much Truth that they are given a power and a life of their own. There wasn't much in the width and breadth of creation that could give the Shinigami pause, yet pause he did. Minato had the displeasure of being half in his body and half out when the Death God suddenly stopped pulling.

[[Oh. Oh, crap.]]

That seemed a terribly odd thing for a personification of death to say. Minato looked up and winced. Two red headed women were glaring at the shinigami, and the weight of their displeasure made him wish Death had finished what it had started.

He was surprised that Kushina ignored him completely. Instead she scooped up their crying son and held him close. He could already see the tears staining her cheeks.

"Why?" Kushina growled.

Oh, blessed ancestors! He was so dead. The last time she had used that voice, she'd beaten a Kumo jounin into a coma for groping her. It might have been on the battlefield, and it might have been a complete accident on the man's part, but none of that had saved the man.

Minato looked up at Death and silently pleaded to be eaten. Since the Shinigami's full attention was on the woman shrouded by the ghostly form of a phoenix, Minato's pitiful pleas for escape were ignored.

((There was no other way. Someone was pulling the Kyuubi's strings. I had to do something.))

The odd, echoing quality his voice made was interesting, and were things different, he might have enjoyed the experience. But the look of betrayal in Kushina's eyes soured the event.

"I know that moron! Why our son?"

((He had the best chance of surviving the sealing and containing the demon.)) Minato looked at the boy sadly.

"You couldn't have chosen anyone else?"

((Who would you have suggested? Besides, he's going to need all the strength he can get. We've made more than enough enemies in our careers, and they're all going to be looking for a way to get back at us in some form or fashion. I didn't want Naruto to be the way they did it.))

"You didn't even tell me about this!"

((There was no time.))

"You had plenty of time to come up with the seal! You had plenty of time to think about how this was going to affect our son!" His wife countered angrily. "I didn't even get to hold him Minato! You stole him from me the minute he left my womb!"

((I'd been planning the seal ever since I heard about Kumo's jinchuuriki, to use in the event an opportunity presented itself; and it did. The only problem was that our people were dying. What should I have done?))

"I don't know, damnit! But using our son as a demonic sacrifice shouldn't have even been on the list!"

((You actually believe I wanted to do this? That I'd planned on using our son as a guinea pig? You can call it Fate, or Hitsuzen, or whatever you like. Naruto's birth was nothing more than chance, Kushina.))

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Minato. You've already done it." Kushina's voice was tired.

((Yes, and now Naruto's a hero.)) Minato looked at the child and smiled.

"A hero? A hero?" Kushina barked a derisive laugh. "Do you have any idea how jinchuuriki are treated? We had one in Whirlpool in my great grandfather's day; my grandmother would tell me stories about the poor girl. It was only a minor demon, compared to the bijuu, but it was still a demon. The girl was used by parents to scare their kids into behaving! She was tolerated or outright feared by the rest of the civilian populace. The shinobi were even worse. Some wanted to use her, some wanted to seal her away, and the rest just outright ignored her. At one point, everyone was afraid she would lose control of the demon and slaughter the village because her lover, the only man to ever care for her, had been killed in a battle."

((It won't be that way for Naruto. Konoha will treat him well.))

"NO THEY WON'T, DAMNIT!" Kushina screamed. Naruto woke in her arms and started crying again. "The Leaf is no more civilized than any where else in the world. Not Whirlpool, or Suna, or any city beyond the sea! The politics and people are the same where ever you go. Danzo is already scheming to make my baby into a weapon!"

((He wouldn't dare do that to my son.))

"Stop being so naive! He doesn't see your son! He sees a tool to use against the other nations."

((How do you know this? Do you have evidence to back it up?))

Minato wasn't necessarily doubting his wife, but he knew the moment the words were free that she would see it that way. Rather than the anger he had readily expected, her face turned stony and she looked away to the woman behind her.

"Will you show him, Phoenix-sama?"

The woman frowned, but in the end nodded. Minato had no idea what his wife meant, but the fiery woman didn't turn her attention to him right away. Instead, she looked to the shinigami.

"You might as well put him all the way back." The Phoenix Woman's voice was smooth as polished steel and just as hard.

Minato would never truly comprehend what had happened after she'd said that, but he could have sworn the woman had just gotten death to piss itself. It was one more odd experience in a night of unique happenings. Considering the weight of her stare as she glared at the apparition, the Fourth couldn't blame him for being terrified.

"Although, I suppose you could go ahead and finish your contract. But that would mean me fishing him out of your gut with my bare hands. Since I just did my nails, you're not going to make me do that are you?"

The Shinigami shook his head rapidly and immediately stuffed Minato back into his body. It was rough and unpleasant, but it was nothing compared to what the Phoenix Woman was doing to him now. He never even noticed the spiritual entity he'd summon disappear – one moment he was trying to settle his mind around the idea that he was still alive, and then next he was awash in the fires of the Phoenix.

And like his wife before him, her touch would change him forever.

She first revealed her true nature to his mind, leaving no doubt concerning the scope of her power or that she was anything but an ordinary woman. He had felt small before people in the past, but this was on a whole different scale! She just seemed to go on forever, and the well of her power didn't seem to end.

She allowed him a moment to find himself again, before opening his mind to the people of Konoha. The fear and terror were giving way to curiosity. They were starting to realize that the battle was over, and that their Hokage had saved them. The beginnings of a celebration were already sparking throughout some parts of the village.

Other mental voices were starting to appear as well: the Sandaime, Sensei, and Kakashi were close, but passed quickly as the Phoenix Woman directed his mind to one individual in particular. Danzo had never been a favorite, if anything he was a necessary evil that Minato had tolerated based on the advice of Advisor's Council. What he saw now made him want to vomit.

The man's crimes and depredations were obscene, and in some cases even worse than Orochimaru's; and the man had the audacity to justify it away under the auspices of protecting Konoha and the Land of Fire. Minato wondered if he would ever feel clean again. Considering some of the things he'd been forced to do in the war, he supposed that was saying something. Beyond all that, the Fourth saw the man's plans for his son unfold. They were tentative and hesitant, but out of all that was there, Minato wanted to see the man burn in the fires of hell.

He felt his mind pull back but, before he was completely himself again, he felt the minds of his shinobi as they looked at his son. Fear, trepidation, and doubt were all there. Some wondered if the sealing had been a success, while others wondered how something so powerful could be contained by something so small. Already dark seeds were forming; thoughts that the Kyuubi had somehow overwritten the baby's soul. It broke his heart and he knew no way to fix their misguided perceptions.

"Do you see?" The Phoenix Woman asked.

"Yes."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

His own tears were swelling in disappointment and regret. He looked to his wife, hoping to find some measure of…if not support, then comfort. The look of betrayal in her eyes did nothing to ease his heartache. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the Phoenix Woman smiling sadly down at him. Her compassion wasn't what he wanted, but it was a welcome balm for his pain.

"Kushina, I…" The words died on his lips. What could he say? He'd done what he felt was best. There really was no alternative.

"I don't think I can talk about this now, Minato. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to." Kushina sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Part of me, the kunoichi, understands why it had to be done. But the mother in me hates that it was. I…I just don't know how to feel about all of this."

"How about we take a break?" The Phoenix Woman gestured to the gathered crowd of ninja that had collected on the scene. "You both need some space to think things through; otherwise you might end up doing or saying something regretful."

Minato looked at the mass of bodies and barely acknowledged their presence, but he nodded along with his wife all the same. There was a time and a place for all things, and he doubted that they would have any private time in the next few days to clear the air. He sighed and, not for the first time, wondered why he had ever wanted to wear the damn hat. Right now he would give it all away, in order to just hold his wife and son.

"Phoenix-sama?"

"Yes, Kushina-san?"

"May I go with you when you leave?"

Minato's head shot up and stared at his wife in shock.

"You're leaving?" He croaked.

"I…yes. For a little while at least." Kushina sighed. "If she will allow me that is."

"I was going to invite you to stay with me for a day or so any way." The Phoenix Woman smiled softly. "I wanted to have a friend of mine take a peek at your son to see what could be done about the Kyuubi."

"You're going to try and free it?" One of the shinobi shouted. The fiery goddess pinned the unlucky man with a glare.

"No, Uchiha Watanuki. I could pull the Kyuubi out of him, but it would be like pulling a cannon ball through a straw. Infants are too delicate to expose to this much energy and stress. If I were to attempt to do so, I would most definitely kill young Naruto here. However, I do intend to see if it is possible to remove the bijuu by other means."

"So, you do intend to free it!" Another ninja accused.

Minato saw the woman's eyebrow begin to twitch as more and more voices began to shout. Weapons began coming out and more than one person looked ready to start throwing out jutsu. He should have cared more, maybe warned them to stand down but, after nearly dying and subsequently seeing the minds and hearts of these people, he just didn't have the energy. The fire outlining the Phoenix Woman flared and a blast of heat knocked the milling mob from their feet, but beyond that display she showed no sign of anger.

"I do not want or desire to see the Kyuubi do any more harm than it already has. However, that does not mean that I will sit by and let an innocent child suffer by containing it."

Minato shook his head and looked out at his people as they regained their feet. Old Man Sarutobi was there, as were Jiraiya and Kakashi. Sensei had an unholy glow in his eye at the sight of the Phoenix Woman. It was only now that the Fourth Hokage noticed the manner in which the goddess was dressed. A part of him knew just how the painted on, skin-tight costume, was going to affect his teacher. Another part feared for his master's immortal soul. If ever there was a woman you did not want to upset, it was this one.

He winced in phantom pain as his sensei had already whipped out a familiar little orange notebook and was rapidly scribbling notes. Kushina hated the Toad Sage's porn almost as much as she loved ramen, and when ever she caught the old perv jotting down notes about her, Minato was the one who paid for it. There was no telling how the Phoenix Woman would react. He just hoped that she allowed him to live.

Minato could already tell by the stupid little grin on the man's face that Jiraiya had come up with something particularly juicy. It was too late to warn him off, and from the way that Kakashi was blushing and giggling as he read over the older man's shoulder the Toad Sage would probably earn every bit of the pain coming his way. Considering the glances both men were shooting between the Phoenix Woman and his wife, it was probably something dealing with Kushina and the goddess in the painted on clothing. Minato suddenly lost all desire to warn his sensei.

It was one thing to enjoy Jiraiya's stories. It was another thing completely to know that the man was writing about your wife, so that other men could enjoy the stories too.

He tried to get Kakashi's attention, if only to get the boy away from ground zero; but the moron was too busy drooling over the notes and the Phoenix Woman to notice. Kushina and her companion heard the perverted giggles, and both turned on Jiraya and Kakashi as one. The affront was plain on their faces, inspiring everyone to scramble for safety. Knowing what he did about both women, inspired the Hokage to put just a little more distance between him and the two fools. Precious people they might be, but even he had his limits.

Minato winced as claws of fiery energy shot out at his teacher and student, grabbing both men by the crotch and lifted them well over the heads of everyone in the crowd. The squeals and shrieks of pain were memorable, and would last long in the nightmares of every man within the village.

"Should I make them eunuchs?" The Phoenix Woman asked quietly. Kushina was silent for a very long time, before she sighed and dropped her head into her hand.

"The Cyclops is still young and ruled by his hormones, so I'd let him slide." She lifted her head and glared at Jiraiya. "But the old freak needs to be snipped."

"SQUEEK!" Jiraiya's eyes crossed as his boys were put to the vice. He stayed like that for a very long time, and everyone expected the tragedy to unfold. Even Minato was surprised when the act of violence didn't end in blood and soprano screams.

"Damnit." The fiery goddess cursed. "I can't bring myself to do it."

"Why not?" Kushina sounded terribly disappointed.

"It's like killing a pathetic old dog." The Phoenix woman sighed. "You know you should put it out of its misery, but there's just something that stops you before the killing blow."

"Want me to do it?" Kushina growled. The Phoenix Woman shook her head and glared at Jiraiya long and hard, as if contemplating unleashing the Red Death on the old pervert.

"No."

The flaming talons evaporated and both men fell to the ground and curled into pitiful little balls. Their sense of relief was evident, as both wept and clutched themselves, ensuring that everything was still intact. The statuesque woman turned back to Minato's wife abruptly and nodded.

"It's time, Kushina." She traced a long, elegant finger, over Naruto's cheek. "The poor boy's been through enough tonight. We should let him rest."

"Yes. Yes, I think you're right."

"Wait!" Minato cried out desperately. "Please!"

He was relieved when both pulled up short and turned to face him. He directed all his attention to his wife, ignoring everyone else.

"When will you be back?"

"I honestly don't know, Minato." She looked away, and he saw a tear race down her cheek. "Maybe in a few days, maybe longer. My first priority is to our son and his welfare. I'll probably stay away until I am certain that he will be safe from any threats, internal or external."

He knew what she was really alluding to. She wouldn't step foot back into the village until Danzo and threats like him were dealt with. The gauntlet was thrown to his feet. It would be up to him to either see the threats to his son eradicated or lose his family forever. He nodded his head with open determination. He'd brought Iwa to its knees in order to save Konoha, all that would pale in comparison to what he would do to the world in order to keep his family.

"Will I be able to contact you? I know what you're asking of me, but even I'm not stupid enough to think I can do it alone."

Kushina smiled sadly and looked to the Phoenix woman. She shrugged.

"We'll work something out."

Minato nodded and ran a hand through his wild hair.

"I'll get the house cleaned up as much as I can for your return." He promised. The code was obvious, but he doubted anyone else was really paying all that much attention to what he was saying. "If you're willing, we can do the rest together.

The set of his shoulders and the slight frown on his face made Kushina's soft smile grow a bit more. She'd seen that expression only a few times, but it was the one that sent his enemies screaming.

"Do what you can, then we'll see to what's left." She promised.

He tried to convey all his regret into one last look, begging and pleading for her forgiveness. She turned away rather than run back to him.

"I love you, Kushina. I love you both. You have to know that."

She paused and her smile faltered.

"I know, Minato, and I love you too. But that doesn't take the hurt away."

The pair vanished in a fierce swirl of fire, leaving him on the battlefield among his shocked and bewildered countrymen. Smaller bursts of flame flashed throughout the battlefield as shinobi killed by the Kyuubi were brought back to life. The only sound heard among the stunned crowd of ninja, were the moans and whimpers of Kakashi and Jiraiya.

It would be a long time healing and rebuilding for Konohagakure no Sato, but Minato would spend the majority of it working to fulfill his promise to his family. Almost all of the mundane work was delegated to Sarutobi, Jiraiya, and the Clan Council. Long before Kushina would return, the Fourth had gathered all he needed to "clean house" – and clean house he did. Danzo was the first, but by no means the last. The Uchiha Coup would be revealed much, much earlier than it ever would have. And a number of internal spies would be captured – some from the other hidden villages, and more than a few left overs from Orochimaru.

He was thorough and brutal, stating plainly what his thoughts were on the topic of traitors. He'd done what he could about the Leaf, but the mysterious puppeteer that had handled the Kyuubi's strings was still out there. Careful questioning of the remaining Uchiha left no doubt in his mind that the hidden enemy was still at large. And if it wasn't an Uchiha, then who else could possibly control a bijuu? Some unknown and unaccounted for descendent of the First Hokage perhaps? He could make all the suppositions he wanted, but in the end he wouldn't be able to do more without more information and his wife by his side.

There was yet one last thing he made plain to everyone, regardless of position or title, or whether they were villager or foreign visitor. He was adamant that the truth of his son's great sacrifice was known to everyone. Naruto had saved them from the Kyuubi. They owed him their continued survival each and every day – anything else would be treasonous, and everyone knew what the Fourth did to traitors. That little tidbit changed everything in Konoha. Or at least it would.

**************

Jean and Kushina arrived back in the lab in a flare of heat and light, startling Beryl and a new woman with red hair and green eyes. Kushina took only two steps before breaking down into tears that had her leaning into Jean's shoulder as the taller woman led her through the alien machinery towards Washu. Jean noted that the new woman immediately stood from the couch and followed, offering Kushina another shoulder to cry on as the new mother clutched her son to her chest.

Unseen and alone before the gate, Beryl bit her lip. Washu had given the pair a brief run down on the gate's abilities and showed them just enough to allow them to take a peek at some of Lily Potter's alternative realities. The sight hadn't been pretty in the least. Her poor son Harry was tortured more often than not due to her death, which of course led him to being easily manipulated by "mangy old goat humpers" and made into a scapegoat for a corrupt and unstable government. And people wondered why Beryl had enlisted with Metalia!

After succumbing to the temptation to look in on some of her own alternate realities, Beryl paled at the thought of being nothing more than a puppet for the eldritch horror she now served. It was even more humiliating that such a powerful entity could be defeated by that scrappy little slut Serenity! The fact that the outcome was fairly certain to lead to her defeat, nine times out of ten, left a sour taste in Beryl's mouth and a cloud of depression hanging over the Terran witch. Even in the realities where she'd successfully overcome the Moon Princess, all that she had sacrificed for was little more than ash and rubble; Endymion was either dead or little more than a zombie, rather than returning her love. The Earth would become a lifeless husk in little over a century, thanks to Metalia's insatiable appetite. And Beryl? Her soul was consumed within days of her victory over the Senshi. It all sucked so much, and she had no idea how to proceed.

In an attempt to distract herself, she idly entered in random parameters for the gate to search out and finally stumbled across a young red haired woman with vast potential for destruction. A young woman after her own heart even, one that had briefly channeled a god and lived to tell the tale. This young woman seemed more her type, than the other two. She was less emotional for one thing. Beryl still shuddered at the feeling of being clung to by Lily Potter, even if the woman needed the support. No, this young woman understood power and the sacrifices one had to make in order to achieve it.

Beryl glanced back into the depths of the lab and tapped her chin thoughtfully. Washu and Jean hadn't said that she couldn't do some recruiting of her own. In fact, now was probably the best time to seek out like minded individuals, before any real restrictions were placed on membership in this little club of theirs. She would have to give the same speech that she'd been given, but the people she was eyeing would no doubt see the benefits of such a relationship. And with that, Beryl stood from the couch and stepped through the gate.

"Hello Ms. Inverse. My name is Beryl. May I trouble you for a moment of your time?"

And then they were six….

**************

The First Meeting

**************

Dinner with the guests was an enlightening affair. Beryl had been worried about being chastised about the additions, but both Jean and Washu simply applauded her initiative. Introductions were made and it turned out that Raven Darkholm, better known as Mystique, and Jean had been old adversaries at one time. It seemed that death and ascension had gone a long way to mellowing Jean out, and the pair were chattering like long lost sisters. Midna of the Twilii was a good conversationalist, and was doing a remarkable job of keeping Washu entertained with stories of some boy named Link. Lily and Kushina both became fast friends, cooing over their babies and generally radiating motherhood. It lit a spark in Beryl that hadn't been there before, which in itself was a wonder.

She'd never even entertained the idea of motherhood; but here, in this place, without the pressures of conquering or the worries of imminent betrayal, Beryl was starting to remember what life had been like before Metalia and Serenity. Her girlish dreams of marriage and a family were shaking free of the chains they'd been buried beneath. It was disconcerting. She'd tried to distract herself with conversation, but Lina seemed more…interested…in the food. Beryl shuddered at the sight of the young woman's eating habits. Lina had seen the look of disgust and shrugged, saying (around a rather large mouthful of rice) that she had an incredibly high metabolism and spells required a great deal of energy. That had left the would-be-conqueror alone with her thoughts while the others nattered away the time.

When Washu clapped and said that it was time to hit the baths, she almost sighed in relief. The floating hot springs were nothing short of magical. Beryl had seen attempts at such extravagance before, but none came close to matching Washu's creation. The facilities were beyond imagination, and the view of the clear night sky was supernal. Couple that with the soothing wash, the hot water unknotting stress she hadn't been aware of, and the quiet murmur of continued conversations, and Beryl was in paradise. It was all enough to lull the Terran witch into such a relaxed state that she began to doze. She would have fallen asleep completely if it hadn't been for Jean's voice rousing her.

"Ladies, since Washu despises formal B.S., it falls to me to formerly welcome you to tonight's gathering." Polite chuckles echoed off the water as Jean sipped her sake. "Some of you have had the unofficial spiel when you were invited to this gathering, but in an effort to make it more official, Washu and I would like to extend our invitations to you to join our little club."

"If it means I get to soak without fear of old perverts watching me bathe, then I'm in." Kushina, sitting on the edge of the water, rocked little Naruto's bassinet.

"Seconded!" Raven raised her sake cup in a toast. The blue skinned woman known as Mystique had more than her fair share of being oogled and enjoyed the idea of a safe haven from wandering eyes.

"Anyone else?" Jean asked.

"I'm not sure I understand the purpose of this organization." Lina commented. "Beryl said that it was supposed to be some sort of private resort for Women of Power."

"That is an aspect of our group." Jean admitted. "There is a point when power loses its ability to entertain."

"What she means to say, is that there are only so many times one can re-write the fabric of reality without it getting old." Washu interjected with a mischievous grin. "After that, all that's left to do is gossip and mess with the lives of the little people."

"Are we meant to be the little people?" Midna asked hesitantly.

"Do you want to be?" Jean shot back. Midna shook her head slightly, noting with some relief that everyone else seemed to be doing the same. "Then I wouldn't worry about it."

"I don't mean to jump track here," Lily Potter raised one hand, while the other mimicked Kushina in rocking baby Harry in his bassinet. "I was just wondering what happened to my husband. I haven't seen him since I…woke up."

"He's still in stasis." Washu smiled softly. "I felt it cruel to subject him to the overwhelming presence of so many beautiful goddesses."

This comment earned a good number of open laughs from the gathered women. Once the mirth died down, Lily cautiously broached her next question.

"He will be alright, won't he?"

"Of course!" Washu crowed. "After all I am the greatest scientific mind in the universe!"

Lily seemed to sag into herself with relief.

"So, back to the topic shall we?" Jean clapped. "This Sorority of Red Heads is meant to be a haven of sorts for those of us with similar problems – notable among these problems would be…"

"Too much power and time on our hands, and not enough to do with it!" Washu stated.

"A plethora of political migraines and broken hearts." Midna added.

"Constant failure and an inability to progress beyond them." Beryl frowned darkly.

"Overwhelming expectations." Lina sighed.

"Prophecies and War." Lily frowned, looking at Harry.

"Unjust persecutions and daily survival." Raven sipped her sake.

"What she said." Kushina agreed, looking at her own baby.

"The tedium of immortality." Jean closed the loop. "We all have problems, regardless of our personal power. These problems seem insurmountable alone, therefore we must look to one another for aid."

"I don't mean to sound ignorant here, Phoenix-sama…" Kushina bit her lip. "But how can any of us help you with your problems?"

"You must admit, that they are more than a bit out of our league, Jean." Raven said.

"My biggest problem right now, is boredom." Jean admitted. "I've reached a pinnacle and don't very much like that plateau. I could obviously go around re-writing reality to my whim, but that tends to leave a sour taste in my mouth."

"And wouldn't this, interference in our lives, constitute re-writing reality to your whim?" Beryl ventured.

"Not from where I'm sitting." Jean shrugged. "I see it as trying to make new friends, and lending a small helping hand to those friends. They in turn, will be the ones to write their own futures and realities."

"I can understand and accept that." Lily smiled. "Having already been a recipient of such aid, I can't help but want to pay back the debt I owe."

"There are to be no debts here, Lily." Jean's serious voice sent shivers down everyone's spine. "We aid each other free and clear, or not at all."

"Well, you see, there is a problem with that." Lily hedged. At Jean's arched eyebrow, she hurried to explain. "My magic recognizes a life debt to Washu-chan, and I will be compelled to see it paid."

"That is something easily fixed." Jean's eyes began to glow with fire.

"NO!" Everyone jumped, Jean included, at Lily's outburst. "Please, don't. This magic is a part of me; to change it in any way is to change me. I don't want that."

"I see." Jean dropped her eyes to the water thoughtfully.

"I mean no offense. It's just, this is what makes me Lily Potter. I've fought too long and hard for the right to simply be who I am, to just allow something so integral to be taken from me."

"I believe I understand Lily." Jean smiled. "I apologize for overstepping myself."

Lily nodded and settled back into the water.

"So, this debt." Washu crossed her arms over her small chest. "What will it take to be repaid?"

Lily shrugged.

"James would know better than I do, but from my understanding it is really straightforward: a life for a life. Since you saved my family, I would assume that we are in debt to you for three lives. There are ways to appease the magic, I believe. James once mentioned that arranging a marriage contract with the promise of issue settled matters fine, but I've never been one to push something so personal onto my children."

Washu tapped her chin thoughtfully before waving the matter off.

"We'll worry about all that later, in the mean time…" There was a mad gleam in her eye that caused Lily to slide back.

"Y…yes?"

"You and your husband can be my guinea pigs!"

There was a mighty splash as the faces of both Beryl and Lina made intimate contact with the bottom of the onsen. Lily shivered uncontrollably, but managed a nod. If that's what Washu needed in payment, then she'd make herself available. Hopefully the debt would be paid fairly quickly that way.

If only she'd known!

Once things had settled down again, Lina decided it was time to address her own issues with this help for free business.

"I've got a problem with helping and not getting paid." Never let it be said that she wasn't bold. Beryl scooted well away from the young woman, just in case things got interesting. "I'm a free agent and have needs. Food isn't cheap, and neither are the other essentials of my trade. If you use my services, then I expect to be fairly compensated."

Seeing that Lina was still in one piece and unharmed, Beryl ventured to add her own concerns to the mix.

"While I do not share her zeal for wealth, I must agree with Miss Inverse. I have never been one to help for the sake of helping."

"The way I see it Beryl-dono, you have already received a fair amount of help from the group already."

"In what way?" She frowned.

"Well, let's see…" Washu produced a small booklet and began flipping pages randomly. "You viewed over one hundred and twelve different alternate realities, noting the identities and major weaknesses of your enemies. You also saw the out comes of a number of pivotal battles that serve as major nodes and branching points for your reality. That undoubtedly gave you an understanding of which tactics worked better than others. Then of course there is the suppression of Metalia. That invariably gives you the freedom to make uninfluenced decisions for the duration of your time with us. Free food, free bath, intended free board until you decide to go home…the list grows and grows."

Washu and Jean grinned brightly.

"And yet, at the end of the day, all we've asked of you is your company." Jean pointed out helpfully.

"So why demand this of us now?" Beryl challenged. She had hoped the pair would have been distracted in helping the others, but they obviously had been more aware of her actions than she had thought.

"Beryl," Washu sighed. "Don't you get it? Just by being here and being yourself you help others."

"She did offer me comfort." Lily smiled helpfully, earning a glower from Beryl for her help."

"Be careful, Beryl." Washu teased. "Your compassion is showing."

"Be nice." Jean chided. "Washu-chan does bring up a point. While we're not asking you to actively help anyone in the group, we encourage you to lend a hand if you are able. Protecting the interests of your sorority sisters can and most likely will protect your own interests. Being a good listener means that someone will inevitably be there to listen to your troubles."

"I'm with Lily on this." Kushina slid into the water after checking to be sure that Naruto was asleep. "I've got a debt to pay, and I mean to see it paid; even if it means paying it forward to someone else on Jean-sama's behalf."

"I still don't see how this is going to benefit me." Lina frowned. "I mean the vacation is nice and all, but I've got goals and dreams that I doubt any of you would be able or even want to help with."

"How can you be so certain?" Midna asked.

"Well, I doubt that you can help me surpass my sister. I know you don't really care all that much about treasure. The spells of my world are unfamiliar to you, and I'm almost certain you don't know how to grow bigger boobs."

Lily picked up her wand from the floating tray in front of her and with a silent swish, flick, and grandiose twirl Lina's nearly flat chest now sported a respectably sizable bust. Everyone simply stared at the miracle, unable or unwilling to be the first to break the tableau. Lina, with tears in her eyes simply stared at Lily in wonder.

"…how…?"

Lily shrugged.

"A small engorgement charm mixed with a lactating spell. It was better than stuffing my bra in fifth year to compete with Narcissa Black."

Everyone nodded sagely at her logic.

"Mind you, it's not permanent. But I doubt that such an easy cosmetic spell would be too hard to maintain or alter if that was your wish. The biggest problem in such a charm would be casting a permanent version on someone still growing. You might come out all lumpy and such."

Lina had stopped listening after "wish" – her mind was swept away with visions of finally beating Naga and Luna at their own games! No more would she be mistaken for a little boy! In fact, every man would worship her as a goddess of beauty! Stars and hearts danced in her eyes, and a triumphant laugh of victory echoed throughout the onsen.

To everyone else the "triumphant laugh of victory" was more maniacal and deranged, but it seemed that Lina had been won over. The night stretched on with each of the women adding their own ideas to the mix and ignoring Lina the best they could, while she sat in a corner playing with her new bust and giggling. It was a fruitful meeting, and they all committed to looking for a new sister to help in the morning.

End Chapter One


	9. Heir of Avalon 02

Heir of Avalon 02

Author's Notes: This is my stab at Harry is Lord of..i (insert magical island/kingdom here). Kudos to Rorsch, who I blame wholeheartedly and with absolute admiration, for inspiring this idea. It's his fault that I'm not finishing any of my other stuff...yeah.

**************

Hermione Jane Granger was a liar. Not in the conventional sense of habitually telling falsehoods – but she, like so many others in the world around her, hid her true self behind a deliberate mask. She hid herself from friend and foe alike, and the only people that had a true inkling of who she was, and consequently what she was capable of, were her parents. But even they didn't know the real Hermione Jane Granger. Tired of their expectations and their demands, she had begun lying to them early on – hiding her true potential behind her carefully crafted mask.

Born to Daniel and Emma Granger late in their lives, Hermione was more of an answer to their need to relate to their clients and social friends, than out of any real desire to love a child. From the get-go, Hermione was pushed to be special – more in accordance with the Granger's need to "one-up" their social competition, than any desire to see her succeed. She knew that Daniel and Emma loved her, in their own way, but it wasn't the same way Molly Weasley loved her children.

Daniel and Emma saw Hermione as a miniature adult, and raised her as such. Her toys were all educational puzzles, classical music, and intellect building games and books. All of these efforts lead Hermione to speaking in full sentences before she had finished potty training and reading before she turned two and a half. When Emma understood just how sharp Hermione's intellect truly was, the Grangers had her enrolled in a prestigious preparatory pre-school for highly gifted students.

Hermione blew the teachers out of the water with how quickly she absorbed information and at the insistence of her parents they pushed the little girl as hard and as fast as she could go. Hermione, not knowing any better, graduated her Primary school when she was four and a half. Her parents quickly pushed her through her Secondary education, wherein she finished with perfect marks just after she turned six, and was immediately enrolled in a special university program at Oxford during the summer before her seventh birthday. Being associated with medicine, the Grangers drove her into an accelerated pre-med program, and Hermione graduated with a dual Bachelors degree in mathematics and biology before she turned nine. The pace was grueling, but she was three quarters of the way through her doctorate in general medicine, when her Hogwarts letter arrived.

One can readily guess how many friends she had growing up.

The only thing that kept her out of the media, were the legal contracts that she had drawn up and forced on her parents and the enrollment board just prior to being enrolled in university. None of them had been happy with her at all, but Hermione wasn't about to let herself become another mentally imbalanced child prodigy just to appease their collective pride and ego. As it was, she felt she'd been "damaged" enough by their insane need to exploit her gifts. She'd done her research and had enough evidence to back her decision. It had been disappointing that she'd had to threaten to fail every class if the documents weren't signed. Hermione had lost a lot of her innocence that day.

Her parents forced her into a compromise once they had discussed the Hogwarts letter and had a visit from Professor McGonagall. If they allowed her to go to school in Scotland, then she would come home and pursue her doctorate over the course of each summer. It had taken quite a few favors and promises on her parents' part, but they had managed to work a number of deals with the university board to give her the opportunity. Hermione didn't like the idea of having to give concessions, but she figured that publicly endorsing the university and giving one percent of her annual income after she'd attained her doctorate back to the 'Gifted Children Fund' was a small price to pay to learn magic.

She agreed and stipulated a mandatory week vacation to unwind before jaunting off. Their counter demand was that she take an I.Q. test every year after returning from Hogwarts and join some swank organization that catered only to the mentally elite. It was yet another attempt to push their family up the social ladder, even if her parents didn't want to admit it to her, or themselves. She declined the latter, but consented to taking an I.Q. test just prior to going to the Leaky Cauldron with the Weasley's the summer before her third year. The final, if not totally arbitrary, score of two hundred and forty six astounded the exam board – and had it not been for the airtight non-disclosure contract that she had everyone sign prior to taking the test, her life might be terribly different today.

Politely put, Hermione was a genius of the highest caliber. She loved to learn, and had the capacity to absorb knowledge like a sponge soaked up water. What she hated the most, beyond anything else, were the expectations associated with being a super brain. She knew she had a great responsibility to use her gifts for the betterment of the world around her, but that was when she was an adult. For now, she wanted just to be a kid, with all the normal kid problems. That was why the Hogwarts letter had been a breath of fresh air for her. She could start over. She could be her own person, and set her own pace, instead of being the child prodigy that everyone else knew. She'd learned early on to despise being a show pony for her parents, and had made certain that they couldn't benefit from her intelligence in the way they seemed to so eagerly pursue.

That fact inspired her to purposefully flub quite a few of her answers on last year's I.Q. test in order to solidify the mask she hid herself behind. She maintained the score she had gotten before (give or take a few points), and her thought was to maintain the plateau rather than show that she was continuing to improve. It would take her parents at least a few years to discover her deception and by then, hopefully, she would no longer be under their control or influence.

She absolutely hated the limelight, just like Harry did, and rather than draw more attention to herself she decided to hide her intelligence rather than flaunting it. She still remembered with open disgust the first of those few telly interviews that she had been forced to endure. Merlin! It was horrid! They'd had a number of questions and answers prepared before hand that the show host would rapid fire at her.

The man's ego had obviously felt threatened by a little girl who, at the tender age of nine years old, had demonstrated that she was quite a bit smarter than anyone in the studio – staff or audience. It made her feel like a dog jumping through hoops, or performing tricks for her masters. She hated the feeling, and when her parents hadn't listened to her protests she took the matter into her own hands. She learned all the laws about child exploitation and abuse that she could, and after formulating her plan of attack, sent her letter to a solicitor.

That one act had cut off her parents' dreams of vicarious fame and fortune. It was also the wake up call that they so desperately needed, to see that they had a daughter instead of a dancing bear. Their relationship had suffered terribly for a very long time after that. Her mother didn't let up completely on the idea of her going public with her test results and had tried to guilt her into dropping her solicitor. Her father reacted horribly to the whole situation and refused to speak to her for the rest of the summer. Hermione understood his anger and frustration, but his feelings of betrayal paled in comparison to what she herself was feeling.

Her mother hated her obstinacy, and tried every month since the solicitor had gotten involved to change her mind about "stepping out" and sharing her gifts with the rest of the world. Hermione would politely decline their offer, and made it a point to check with her lawyer quite often through correspondence to ensure that no one had breached her privacy – most specifically, her parents. It made her sick to her stomach that she had to go to such extremes in order to protect herself, but life was a bed of roses…thorns included.

It was sad really, that her family had so totally fallen apart. Last summer they sent her to the Burrow almost immediately after the I.Q. test and there was very little affection any more – not that there had been all that much to begin with. Her mother continued to write her at school, if only to keep up appearances, but her father hadn't said or written anything beyond the brief show at the platform when they picked her up last year. He even refused to see her off this year, and Hermione could see how strained her parents' relationship had become through her mother's letters. From the tone of the correspondence, Hermione knew that her family was about to become another divorce statistic if things didn't change; specifically, if she didn't buckle and give into her parents' demands. But would that really salvage their relationship? Hermione didn't think so. It was a harsh position to take, and morally she wondered if she wasn't being overly selfish. Still, love wasn't conditional and if her parents required her to compromise her principles in order to save their marriage, then what they had wasn't worth saving in Hermione's opinion.

It was a scary place to be for her, and she resented her parents for foisting their issues and responsibilities onto her shoulders. If there was a divorce Hermione was certain that her father wouldn't ask for custody, which meant that she was going to have to live with her mother until she at least turned seventeen. The temptation to just Obliviate them and set out on her own was great, and were it not for the fact that her parents were such high profile people in her community she might have already done it. Unfortunately, there just wasn't a magical cure-all for her predicament. There weren't any potions that would gain her true affection from her parents, nor were there any charms that would send her back in time to start all over. She'd learned that in her Third year. All in all, the magical world had simply become a ten month escape from her parents for her.

She'd had such great hopes for the new start that the magical world represented for her when she entered the Leaky Cauldron for the first time with Professor McGonagall. Those hopes were ultimately dashed when faced with all the bigotry and the fact that in spite of all of her attempts to "dumb herself down" she still found herself placing far above her peers academically.

She had the ability to do advanced calculus in her head, and could currently read and write in twelve languages – some dead and some not. And yet, for all her knowledge and training, she, like so many other child prodigies, hadn't been adequately prepared for the social intricacies that she would face upon coming to a school like Hogwarts. She had felt more at home giving a dissertation on microbiology before a group of stuffy old scholars than she had amongst a bunch of nattering kids her own age.

Still, she'd had great aspirations upon seeing the Great Hall, and had gone so far as to beg the Sorting Hat to place her in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin. The Hat thought that her request alone was a mark of bravery, and therefore granted her request. Hermione had regretted that choice for almost a full two months, before a green-eye prince and his squire in rumpled school robes came to save her from both, the smelly Halloween troll and the all consuming bitter loneliness that she'd found herself in.

Hermione had read about interacting with others and building productive relationships long before coming to Hogwarts, but the information in her books was scarcely a good window into the real world. No one could relate with her higher intelligence or her regular study habits, and therein lay her greatest challenge. She tried to cut back, and had done even more to repress her advancement when she befriended Harry and Ron. Her greatest fear was driving the pair away, should she ever truly cut loose. But as time went on, she realized that when she was around Harry, she was more relaxed and more like her true self than she'd ever dared to be with anyone else. She could study as hard and as fast as she wanted, and he took it in stride. Ron, outside of his regular grumbling and cheek, wasn't so bad either.

By her third year, she'd even managed to hit something of a happy medium with herself and the identity that she'd created. Harry and Ron both expected her to do well and be a bit "mad" about her studies, which allowed her to stretch her legs a bit with the whole time turner episode. If anyone truly knew just how far she'd gone with that…. Well, she didn't think that Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore would appreciate the idea that, out of an insatiable curiosity and a bit of healthy paranoia where her mother was concerned, she'd already audited her fourth, fifth, and sixth years with the aid of Harry's invisibility cloak. She'd planned to do the seventh, just in case her mother decided to pull her out of classes early, but it just wasn't practical. Her body wasn't able to keep up with the demands of time travel, as much as her mind wanted to.

Besides, regardless of how far she'd pushed herself in her studies, Hermione knew that she wanted to remain at Hogwarts the full seven years. She'd made true friends there and, notwithstanding her having to wear a mask around them, she knew that they loved her as much as she loved them. Well, maybe not Harry…she wasn't so sure he knew just how much she loved him, but that was going to change…wasn't it?

Both of her friends had supported and defended her on numerous occasions, but she felt it was Harry that truly seemed to understand and accept her. He might not know all the sordid details about the young woman behind the mask, but she knew that he could accept them a great deal easier than Ron ever would. Ronald would throw a tantrum like he had over Harry and the Goblet of Fire, which was why she wasn't going to ever reveal just how smart she was to the youngest Weasley boy. Harry would know all her secrets; perhaps not today, but soon enough.

In truth though, all but one of her secrets didn't really matter in the current scheme of things. What mattered most to her right now was the fact that the young man she'd come to love so desperately was suffering, and that he had no idea how much she needed him in her life. Between Sirius' death and being forced back to Privet Drive, she knew that he was on the verge of cracking – probably better than anyone else.

Hermione wasn't certain if she had the courage to just come out and tell him how she felt, but she knew that there was nothing holding her back from showing him how much she cared. If giving him a shoulder to lean and cry on helped him realize that she wanted to be a permanent part of his life, then all the better. If she could make him see her as more than a bookish friend, then they could move on to more important things…like kissing and cuddling while they studied.

Puberty for a child genius was just as hellish as it was for anyone else, but for Hermione it went deeper than most. She had been maturing more rapidly than anyone she knew, and it had been terribly confusing over the last four years. She not only had the mental maturity to understand the changes her body was experiencing, she knew who she wanted to explore her more intimate feelings with. Most teens her age had little to no idea about sexual relationships beyond the giggling discussions and speculations they had in the dorms on late nights.

Hermione however, had the mind of a forty year old trapped in the body of a sixteen year old. The rapid fire alterations her body and emotions had gone through were tempered with a vast clinical knowledge of puberty and what came after it. She was terribly glad for Victor Krum, if only because he had been a nice distraction that kept her from dragging Harry off to a secluded classroom to have her way with the Boy-Who-Lived. It had taken all her will power this year not to jump him…and the mood swings…Sweet Mab! They were hellish! Cho had stolen a lot of her self-confidence, while at the same time allowing her to ground herself. Had it not been for the threat of Umbridge and running the D.A., Hermione was afraid of might have happened this year between her and Harry. But, now that the year was over and Cho had been dumped like the trash she was, Hermione felt better about coming clean to her best friend.

She had awoken this morning with a strange sense of dread hanging over her, and while she didn't accept Trelawney's Divination drivel at face value, she knew that there was something to be said for a woman's intuition. The veil of discomfort plagued her through breakfast and lunch, and a sense of urgency had been pushing her to find Harry as soon as her summer classes were finished for the day; lest she miss out on something terribly important. Making allowances for all that happened to her friend, it was little wonder that Hermione felt protective of her Harry.

Had she not known and understood her feelings the way she did, the strength and pressure of her worry would have driven her to a panic. Thankfully, she was made of sterner stuff – which made things so much easier for her in the long run. That was why she found herself on a train from Oxford back to London – her parents wishes be damned. She wasn't going to sit in a cold, antiseptic operating theater watching some puffed up surgeon tell her how to remove a spleen. She had more important things to do; namely find her Harry, scoop his malnourished body into her arms and kiss all his troubles away…among other things.

Damn hormones!

She only hoped that the shuttle to Guildford wasn't this slow. Stupid trains. She really needed to learn how to apperate – the sooner the better.

Unfortunately, by the time Hermione arrived at Privet Drive Harry was long gone. News of his beating and subsequent rush to the hospital drove her straight to panic. That in turn sent her sprinting to Mrs. Figg's house with an impressive burst of speed and adrenaline. Ten minutes of near hysterics, and a storm of verbal vitriol that sent the woman's cats running for safer harbors, finally got Hermione through the squib's Floo and into the dreary sitting room of Grimmauld Place.

The sight of so many worried faces didn't bode well, but she remained adamant that Harry was fine. He'd survived too much not to be.

Denial was such a wonderful thing.

**************

Side along apparition had to be, to Harry's mind, one of the most unsettling forms of travel known to wizards. There was really no way to redeem a method of transportation that made you feel like your whole being was squeezed through something the size of a drinking straw. Sure it was fast and versatile, but there had to be better headache from earlier was already coming back, as was the nausea. A bout of vertigo had him clinging to Rebecca like a life line, much to his shame and annoyance. He closed his eyes and tried to get the ornate room to stop spinning madly. His trembling weakness made him feel all the more self conscious.

"Sorry about this."

In answer to his apology, the dark haired young woman simply wrapped her arms around his waist and led him to a stone bench near the apparition point. Harry leaned against the cool marble column to his right and waited for the world to settle. He heard someone quietly approach and noted, with more than a little amazement, that Rebecca was immediately jabbering away with the person in Gobbledygook.

He cracked an eye long enough to see her passing off a golden medallion, emblazoned with the crest of the bank, to a pair of intimidating goblin guards. He was even more surprised to note that the sentries, after casting some spells and physically investigating the piece of jewelry, bowed deeply to her. He had never heard of a goblin giving a witch or wizard a gesture of such honor and respect. He waited until the sentries left the room to question Rebecca about the event.

"What was that all about?" She smiled at him softly before answering.

"I was returning the ward key that we used to bypass the bank's apparition wards."

"We're already in Gringotts?" Harry asked. He was certain that they would have to walk to the bank through Diagon Alley. He rubbed his temples to ease his headache and was happy to note that the action eased his vertigo a bit.

"Yes, my Lord." Her voice was soft and polite, but at the same time there was a sense of distance and uncertainty hidden in those three little words.

"So…you must be someone pretty important, what with all the bowing and ward keys."

"Not especially, my Lord." She blushed prettily and clutched a thick book to her chest. "I am a servant to the throne and the goblins were honoring an ancient treaty, not me personally."

"The throne?" Harry closed his eyes as the room swam again. "You work for the Royals?"

"Not the Throne of England, my Lord. I serve the throne of Caer Azkaban and the man who is destined to rule from it." Rebecca settled the book in her lap and looked at Harry with a great deal of concern. There was something else hidden behind those exotic eyes…something eager and expectant.

"I've never heard of Azkaban having a king before." He rolled his stiff neck slowly, and fought the urge to lie down on the bench. "Then again, I shouldn't be that shocked. Just about everything dealing with the wizarding world is somehow new and surprising." He paused long enough to grin at her cynically. "It's my own fault really. You'd think that after all these years, I'd develop better study habits…maybe even crack the cover of Hogwarts: A History like Hermione's always telling me to."

"It is a very informative and valuable book on the state and history of wizarding Britain; if you can make your way through all the little mundane anecdotes." Rebecca agreed. "There is a small chapter about Caer Azkaban and its Lord. He was nominally the Fifth Founder and had a hand in helping the other four to build the school. However, his duties to his people would not permit him to stay on and teach, so he is not represented by a house. It is said that Hogwarts herself is his house." She shrugged; a bit embarrassed that she had spoken for as long as she had. "The British Ministry of Magic has attempted many times to remove the chapter from the book but, for whatever reason, it always shows up in the final printing."

Harry couldn't repress the derisive snort.

"Serves them right." He sighed and pressed his cheek against the cool pillar, relishing in the solid feel of the stone. "It's amazing how much the government tries to hide from the people, and it's even more amazing how much the people will allow the government to hide from them."

"Some secrets are necessary." Rebecca countered. Harry noted that she looked and felt…guilty? He knew she was hiding something from him, but it didn't feel important or dangerous. On the contrary, it felt like the answers would eventually present themselves to him – sooner rather than later.

"True enough I guess. But history shouldn't be one of them."

"History has always been authored by the victor, my Lord. It is a spoil of war, so to speak, to be able to remember your victories the way you want to, and to hide your indignities rather than being hounded by them."

Harry couldn't help but laugh sardonically. It was true…so very true. Who would actually want to remember how incompetent Cornelius Fudge has been? If Harry were honest with himself, there were more than a few humiliations he'd rather forget himself. He sighed and looked at Rebecca again. She had set her book beside her on the bench, but he noted that one hand always rested on it…as if she were drawing comfort from it as well as protecting its secrets. He wanted to ask her what it was, but couldn't bring himself to. There was still an awkwardness between them that needed to be broken down first. He could always use another friend. Maybe, if and when she was comfortable with him, she would open up more.

"Harry."

"I'm sorry, my Lord?"

"My name. It's Harry." He smiled and shrugged. "I'd feel more comfortable if you called me by my name, instead of 'Lord' or whatever."

"But I couldn't possibly...it just wouldn't be proper to address you in such a familiar manner!" The young woman began to blush and fidget uncomfortably with her long black braid with one hand, while the other pulled the large tome into her lap. Harry couldn't help but grin cheekily as a thought occurred to him.

"The way I see it…thanks to your wonderful kiss, you've earned the right to a little familiarity." He teased. Harry felt a victorious smile building on his face at the sight of her blushing cheeks, and a curious excitement bubbled in his stomach at the knowledge that she was blushing because of him.

"I…you see…Healer Webber said that you were in danger of hurting yourself…and that was the first thing that came to my mind!" Rebecca's face was positively tomato red, and she kept unconsciously biting her bottom lip in a way that Harry found very distracting. "If I offended you with my forwardness, my Lord-Baron, I offer my most humble apologies."

The young woman set her thick book aside and fell to her knees before him. Harry went from smug to astonished, in the blink of an eye, as she pressed her forehead to the polished marble floor. It was Harry's turn to blush and fidget.

"Hey now, there's no need for all that."

Moving as quickly, he stood and gently started to lift her from the floor by her forearms. He made it about half way up again before the world tilted and Harry swooned. Rebecca was immediately there to catch him and maneuver him back to the bench. It took a few moments for Harry's head to clear enough to think properly again but when it had, he found his head pillowed on her lap and felt the comforting attention of her fingers massaging his temples. She was humming a soft tune that was already working to ground him and relax his tense muscles.

"Thanks." He didn't bother to open his eyes, but offered her his best smile. "This feels really good."

"I live to serve, my Lord."

He couldn't help but snort again.

"I'm not going to be able to get you to use my proper name, am I?"

"You would have to order me to do so, my Lord. And I'm afraid that you do not have that authority…yet."

Harry frowned at the way she paused. It wasn't very subtle at all.

"What do you know?" He opened his eyes and locked his gaze on her.

"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to, my Lord." She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I am constrained by my Oaths to guard the secrets of Azkaban, to reveal them would mean my death. I've already said too much as it is."

Harry saw that she wanted to tell him something…anything…to answer his curiosity, but she was being magically restrained from doing so. He nodded and pressed his hand against hers to show that he understood.

"I suppose that if I'm meant to know, I'll learn soon enough."

She sagged, visibly relieved at his understanding.

"Too true, Lord-Baron."

Harry was in motion even before the unknown voice's first word was completed, immediately placing himself between Rebecca and the new comers. His wand veritably leapt to his hand and a nasty blasting curse was on his lips before his eyes had time to adjust to his sudden motion. When his vision cleared, he noted that the sentries had returned with guests – guests that they were currently guarding with wickedly sharp weapons.

When Harry wasn't immediately attacked, he took the opportunity to study the group before him. Standing directly behind the sentries was a positively old goblin, whose clothing and heavy gold refinements screamed of his status as someone wealthy and important to Gringotts. Harry didn't linger on the goblin for long – there were other potential threats that drew his attention.

His eyes tracked right and noted the stance of a young woman that looked exactly like Rebecca – save for her hair. Where Rebecca's was dark and long, this young woman's was cut short in a style that reminded Harry immediately of Tonks. The fact that her hair was bleached to the point of being white only heightened the connection. The light hair made her caramel colored skin look even darker, and drew his eyes to her – which, for some reason that he didn't really understand, was exactly what she probably wanted.

Something about the way she carried herself reminded Harry of a predator, and told him in no uncertain terms that people were meant to see her – not so much for her stunning beauty, but more for the monumental mistake it would be to ignore a shark when there's blood in the water.

He couldn't really place why exactly but, out of everyone in the small entourage, she seemed to be the most dangerous. While the goblins looked fierce, she was downright deadly – curves and all.

Surprisingly enough, her attention wasn't focused on Harry as he thought it should be – it was honed on the goblin sentries. Her short hair gave him a clear, unobstructed, view of her graceful neck; her eyes were a warm hazel, but it didn't make her seem any softer. Even blocked as his vision was by the sentries he could see, from the way that her combat robes pulled against her body, that she was remarkably trim and toned. Dean would have dubbed her a "Hard Body" with excessive amounts staring and drooling.

Sexy or not, Harry wasn't about to let himself be distracted from the last person in the party. Harry shifted his gaze to the tall man standing behind the deadly beauty and found himself already being weighed in turn. The gentleman looked to be approaching his late sixties, with a small spattering of white at his temples. His dark pin-striped, three-piece, Muggle business suit was a severe contrast to the robes and armor, but it looked just as expensive. Harry met his gaze evenly, refusing to blink or back down. After facing the likes of Voldemort, this guy really wasn't all that intimidating. The man's dark eyes narrowed a bit and his mouth twisted into a small smile, apparently pleased that Harry hadn't shown any weakness.

He nodded to Harry once and turned his attention to the approaching figures of Ms. Thornburrow and Healer Webber. He whispered in her ear and handed her something before turning away. He moved to the entrance of the room to have a quick word with Healer Webber before leaving altogether.

It was another strange occurrence, in a day of strange occurrences. Harry had the distinct feeling that he and the odd man would meet again. Rebecca laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and drew his attention to Ms. Thornburrow.

"It's alright Harry. You are among friends." The solicitor motioned to the old goblin. "May I present to you, High Warden Nabbak, the Hogec bor Maagekharlaan of the Gringotts Council of Elders."

Harry just stared at her and briefly shook his head to demonstrate that he didn't understand what that meant. The solicitor smiled and nodded her head towards the goblin in question.

"Peace favor you Harry James Potter-Black, Duke of Gammling, Scion of the most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Baron of the most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Know that you are safe in these golden halls."

The venerable goblin tapped his guards, who lowered their weapons but didn't put them away. Harry reciprocated by lowering his wand point to the floor and trying to remember the essays he'd had to write for Binns about wizard-goblin treaties. There was always something that they said when showing peaceful intentions…if only he could remember what it was….

"May Vergath preserve and protect your horde, High Warden Nabbak."

Harry bowed at the waist, but didn't take his eyes from the goblins. He'd remembered the story of Reginald the Rabid, who had beaten the Blacktongue clan into submission only to die when he went to accept their surrender. The lesson: never take your eyes off your opponent. Not only do the goblins take offense at being dismissed as a threat, but it's a really stupid thing to do.

Nabbak looked inordinately pleased with Harry's response.

"It is a pleasure to finally see a wizard with manners from your generation, Lord-Baron. Considering the fact that you are such a high profile figure within your society, perhaps there is hope that others will see your example and follow it."

Harry smiled at the goblin and shrugged.

"It would go a long way to preventing another war between our peoples, wouldn't it."

The High Warden shook his head sadly.

"One can only hope, Lord-Baron. One can only hope."

Harry wasn't certain how to take the venerable goblin's statement, and so decided to remain silent. The last thing he needed was to offend the High Warden with his curiosity. He didn't want to be known as The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Start-A-War-With-Goblins. Nabbak seemed to weigh Harry again before nodding and gesturing to Ms. Thornburrow.

"Ms. Thornburrow has made an appointment for you in the Hall of Legacy, and considering the amount of time it will take to prepare you for your heritage ritual, I would suggest that we be on our way. Further introductions and pleasantries will have to be dealt with as we descend into the Warrens." Nabbak paused, obviously trying to find a way to tactfully phrase his next question. "Will you need assistance in making your way to the Hall?"

"At most, a shoulder to lean on would be appreciated."

Harry's smile grew a bit strained as both Rebecca and the other young woman leapt forward to his aid. Both had their arms around his waist and his arms draped over their shoulders in a flash, and in another breath the group was leaving the room and on their way to the Hall of Legacy.

Rebecca introduced Harry's other human crutch as her twin sister, Callisto. The young woman nodded shyly to Harry, but immediately forced her gaze to the floor when ever he would look at her directly. It was odd that such a powerful young woman would be so self conscious around someone like himself. He could tell that it wasn't the usual Boy-Who-Lived crap – she hadn't even bothered to look at his scar once. No, this was something else entirely; something that bothered Harry a great deal more than all that Chosen One tripe that the Prophet was spewing about.

Ms. Thornburrow finally stepped into the quiet discomfort and formally introduced herself, insisting that he call her "Jill" or "Gillian" – Harry, happy to dispense with the formalities, agreed on the condition she call him by his name as well. Both Rebecca and her sister had mixed feelings about this informality, as evidenced by the small frowns that blossomed on their faces. They didn't say anything though, and Harry contented himself to ask Gillian questions about the ritual.

"It's really a fairly straight forward ritual. Do you want the semi-detailed, or the bare-bones basic description?"

"For now, bare-bones will do." He smiled weakly and shrugged as best he could in the arms of the two attractive young women bearing his weight down yet another flight of stairs. "I'm not the best student of theory…that's generally Hermione's thing."

"Bare bones it is then." Gillian tapped her chin in thought for a moment. "What do you know about Genopaths?"

"Not a thing." Harry admitted earnestly.

"Well, as a Genopath, my gift deals with confirming and uncovering the history and power of magical bloodlines. Wizards and witches come to me to find out if they are tied to any of the major lines, or to verify that they are who they say they are for the purposes of qualifying for an inheritance. I also perform blood adoptions for those families that cannot have children or, for whatever reason, no longer have a viable heir to their estate. Some times I even get called to document the powers and blood gifts of young children for parents who don't want to be surprised by any accidental magic their child might throw their way. You with me so far?"

Harry nodded his understanding.

"All of these services require a blood ritual and as such, these rituals are the only legal form of blood magic sanctioned by the Ministry. Do you know much about rituals?" Harry shook his head. "Well, the long and short of it is this: all rituals are based, to some extent, on the power of Arithmatic equations. Numbers are a foundation of the universe. They have power, some more than others, and when their power is combined with other elements, like charms, potions, or other magic…well, the results are pretty amazing. Some of the more powerful…or at the very least, more commonly powerful numbers in our world are: 3, 7, 13, and 31."

"Prime numbers?" Harry vaguely remembered one of his muggle teachers introducing the concept to him before he left for Hogwarts. Gillian nodded.

"Exactly. Take you for example…you are currently the son of three bloodlines; Evans, Potter, and Black. You were also born in the thirteenth hour, with twenty nine minutes and fifty-three seconds, on the thirty first day of the seventh month. All in all, it's a very powerful string. If you had been born in 1979 or 1987, to truly complete the string…well, beyond it being statistically miraculous, I would think that you would be…well, I don't even know how to speculate on what you'd be capable of. As it is I think you're miraculous enough."

"Yeah, well, no one's perfect." Harry sighed dramatically. She grinned and Harry matched her.

"Perfect or not, Harry, your numbers speak for themselves. I can only imagine what's going to happen next year."

"How do you mean?"

"You will have a complete string, my Lord." Rebecca looked to Gillian, who simply nodded as they passed under yet another non-descript archway, leading into yet another mundane goblin tunnel.

"Exactly. Any rituals or magic in general for that matter, performed by you next year on your birthday will be incredibly powerful. Some scholars have described the magic of a full string as 'touching the universe' or 'channeling God' – it's generally a once in a life time event for most people."

Harry shifted his weight a bit, pausing to see if he was fit enough to walk on his own. His hopes were dashed as his legs went wobbly after only four steps. Callisto and Rebecca caught him and went back to supporting him again without comment. Hoping to take the attention off of his deficiency, and the rather distracting bodies he was currently being supported by, he moved the conversation back on track.

"So what is the rest of the ritual going to be like?"

"Well, we're going to do our best to make the string as complete as possible. You have three names that will be stated in five syllables. You will have six people helping you to perform the ritual; myself leading, Callisto and Rebecca acting as my support, and three others."

"Can I choose them or do you have them already lined up?"

"Well, there are some specifications that need to be met. Who did you have in mind?" Gillian asked guardedly. "Sirius made it clear that we shouldn't involve too many people from Dumbledore's group. He was afraid that the headmaster would try to prevent your inheritance."

Harry nodded and sighed.

"I can see that. What are the criteria for being a part of the ritual?"

"Few really. The final three positions are specifically for women, representing the Moirae or the Norns – history isn't really certain which. Those that you have a deep connection to are fine when family isn't available, but for this ritual, blood ties would be even better in order to represent the Past, the Present, and the Future. Generally speaking you would have your grandmother, mother, and a younger sibling or cousin stand in – but since they aren't available for you, we can go with just about anyone you want."

Harry was silent for another staircase, pondering who he could ask that wouldn't immediately run to Dumbledore after the ritual was completed. Sadly, there were only a couple of names that came to mind and even those were somewhat suspect. It was all a matter of trust, and if he could convince them to hold their peace it would make life so much easier.

"If we approached them with the right amount of urgency, I think I'd like to have Nymphadora Tonks and her mother for their blood ties to Sirius, and Hermione Granger for her tie to me. In the end they're family, so I know we can trust them to keep the secret." He paused again to make sure his logic was sound and then nodded, hoping that he wasn't making another mistake. Gillian seemed pleased with his suggestions.

"The first two make a lot of sense. The third is something of a surprise. I take it that for once the drivel in the Prophet was correct then?" Harry looked at her askance. "Is Ms. Granger your girlfriend?"

Harry blushed and didn't answer right away.

"Not in the way you think. She's the best and most loyal friend that I've ever had. Ron was my first friend, but she…she's always been by my side."

"That's how all the really deep loves start." Gillian smirked. Rebecca nodded sagely, but said nothing. Callisto tensed for a moment, but chose to remain silent on the issue…for which Harry was deeply grateful.

"Well, we won't be performing the ritual until tomorrow morning around eight twenty – as close to the time of your birth as possible." Gillian tapped her chin and turned to Rebecca. "Do you think you could run those errands for me?"

Nabbak, who up until this time remained silent, decided to jump into the conversation.

"I can name her a temporary emissary of Gringotts and send along an escort to help convince the other participants."

Harry was shocked. He couldn't figure out why the goblins were going out of their way to help him like this.

"I…I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"

"Consider it our way of paying back a debt, Lord-Baron." Nabbak stopped beneath a large stone archway and looked back at Harry over his long, pointed nose. "Your first defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort saved the British wizarding economy, however unintentionally it happened, and in saving the economy you saved my people. It may not have been a conscious thing, or even a complete victory, but in the end it was a victory and that is all that matters. In the long run, you gave my people thirteen years to prepare for Voldemort's return – not to mention, allowing us the opportunity to learn from our previous mistakes. It is an incalculable debt that, in and of itself, cannot be ignored. When you take into account the amount of outstanding debts owed to your various bloodlines, and the fact that you are once again opposing Voldemort…this small gesture is but a small pittance compared to what we feel we owe you; and the Goblin Nation always pays its debts Lord-Baron, on time and in full."

"I don't know what to say." Harry felt lost. No one had ever shown him this type of gratitude before, and he didn't know how to handle the situation. Nabbak took pity on him and looked at Harry directly in the eye.

"There is nothing to say, Lord-Baron. Your actions speak for you." Harry could only shrug and smile uncertainly. "I have been authorized by the Council of British High Wardens to offer you assistance in any way, shape, and form that does not break with existing treaties between the Goblin Nation and the British Magical Community. Above and beyond that, you have a blank check with Gringotts. May Jotumn favor your family and friends with good fortunes."

"Thank you." Harry wracked his brain for the appropriate response to the goblin's formal blessing. "May Gobbstank ward and protect all your dealings, High Warden Nabbak."

This seemed to be the correct response, since the High Warden bowed deeply to Harry, and the Boy-Who-Lived thanked the heavens for Hermione's notes. The rest of the walk was short, for which Harry was terribly grateful. His head was throbbing and his body was exhausted. The heavy stone door that they finally came to, seemed at first to be nothing more than a part of the tunnel's wall. However, that observation was debunked when Nabbak tapped it with his long finger nail. Silvery runes lit up all along the outline of the portal, and a web of golden magic enveloped the whole wall for a moment before a gold door, encrusted with jewels and other precious metals, finally materialized. It was of comparative size to the doors leading into Hogwart's Great Hall, and the room beyond the portal was more lavish than the Gryffindor common room.

Harry could literally feel the residual magic of the room, thrumming in his veins as he stepped over the threshold. It was something terribly humbling for him, as the press of countless years seemed to weigh on him. He could almost feel the eyes of his progenitors looking down on him. He shivered noticeably in the arms of Callisto and Rebecca, who simply drew him tighter to their bodies. All in all it wasn't a bad thing, but he still couldn't help but blush.

Healer Webber and the older gentleman were already in the room seated around a large, circular granite table with two other ancient looking goblins. The center of the table was missing and, in its place on the polished marble floor was a ritual circle of patterned stones. Harry recognized a few from his time in transfiguration: emerald, obsidian, white Venetian marble, jade, lapis lazuli, iron, and even petrified wood to name only a few.

Powerful runes, made of inlaid diamonds, joined each of the different types of stone together, binding them to create a unified circle. If he were to guess, each of the different stones seemed to represent a different element; but when he asked, Gillian said that it was only part of a larger symbolism. Each stone had its own magical resonance, as well as serving a greater purpose in establishing a foundation for all of the major magical disciplines. What was truly strange, and seemingly out of place, was the deep basin that made the hub of the ritual circle. No water filled it, but it looked deep enough for a person to fully submerge themselves in.

It was all very much above Harry's understanding, but he did as he was directed and sat in a large chair at the table that faced the door. Gillian and Nabbak wasted no time in introducing Harry to the room's other occupants.

Augustine Antolios was the man that had been at the apparition hub and he had a decidedly "old" feel to him, just like Dumbledore, in spite of his youthful appearance. He turned out to be Callisto's and Rebecca's Great-Great-Great Grandfather. High Warden Lagnut Goldtongue sat to Augustine's right, while High Warden Crabbit Bloodstick flanked his left. All seemed strangely excited, but guarded in the same breath. It unnerved Harry quite a bit to be the subject of their unblinking scrutiny, so he turned his attention back to Gillian.

"Well, we've got a lot of work to do tonight to prepare the circle and the materials for tomorrow. So, we'll get right to it." She motioned to Rebecca, who had been standing behind and to the right of Harry's chair. The dark haired young woman walked over to an ornate set of teak cabinets and pulled out a tray of potion vials filled with an iridescent, pink substance that seemed to spark and flash at regular intervals. Harry had been so focused on Rebecca that he didn't hear Healer Webber's approach. At the man's light touch on his shoulder, Harry jumped.

"Sorry to startle you." His smile was bright and earnest. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Webber nodded, but wasn't going to let Harry get away with anything less than the whole story. "I've got a pretty large headache too."

"Understandable, considering the amount of magic you were channeling. Anything else?" Harry shook his head. "Well, let's give you another once over just to make certain. I'd rather err on the side of safety than have you burn yourself out during the heritage ritual tomorrow."

Another long bout of diagnostic spells ensued, leaving Harry to watch Gillian and the others setting to work on the ritual circle. She had Augustine transfiguring and shaping the marble within the circle to other elements and configurations: concentric circles, equilateral triangles, and an octagon at the center of the configuration, around the basin, with lines leading out to the other anchors. It was fascinating to watch, and Harry felt that he had robbed himself when he didn't take arithmacy and ancient runes. Webber interrupted his thoughts by setting a number of potions on the table in front of him.

"What are these?" He asked with distaste. Webber tapped each in turn as he named them.

"Marshfig juice mixed with a general pain reliever for your migraine. Lamplin's sleepless draught – it will keep you awake and alert for twenty four hours. And last but not least, a very concentrated Pepper-Up potion to energize and wash away your fatigue. I expect you to eat plenty of food in the next two hours in order to replace the nutrients that your body burned off in the healing process."

The healer pointed to a secluded corner of the room that was laden with small feast of fruits, vegetables, breads, and meats. Harry's mouth watered at the sight of it all, since it felt like days since he'd eaten last. Webber's hand shoved the vial with iridescent pink liquid in it forward with the others.

"Drink up, Mr. Potter. You've got a long night ahead of you."

Harry did as he was directed and settled into a chair at the food table to eat. Webber was right about one thing, it was definitely a long night. He finally caught a short break just after dawn and, somewhere during all of the preparations, Rebecca slipped away unnoticed to collect the Tonks women and Hermione.

**************

Around four in the morning, Voldemort became terribly ecstatic about something – which of course bled over into Harry. Luckily he wasn't doing anything delicate at the time, since he was laid out half naked on a table while Gillian and Callisto inked runes onto his bare chest and arms. He still got a brain full though, and a stern chastising from Gillian for messing up forty minutes of painstaking work. It took a long time to explain things to everyone, especially the High Wardens, but by the time he was finished the goblins were grinning.

Voldemort was planning an assault against Gringotts, and it was obvious from the sadistically eager smiles on the goblins' faces that blood was going to flow. Had he seen the dark frown on Callisto's face as she spoke to Augustine, Harry might have been even more worried than he already felt.

Thankfully, or perhaps not, he was distracted from all the bloodlust in the air by Gillian's demand to lay still and let her finish. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the second half of this process. Being bare-chested was all fine and good, stripping starkers in front of two attractive women so that they could draw on your skin some more was more than a little unnerving.

Gillian finished his chest and stomach and after a quick charm to ensure that her work wouldn't smudge or rub away, she had him lay face down so that she could begin work on his back. Once settled Harry situated the book he'd been given and quietly went back to reading the copy of "Hogwarts: A History" that Rebecca had scrounged up from somewhere, in the hopes of further distracting his mind from having to be naked in front of the world.

He would never admit it to anyone, but Hermione was right. It was really a fascinating book to read.

**************

The call had been sent and the members of Dumbledore's Order had been gathered to Grimmauld Place. The sense of grave urgency in the summons brought every available member out of the woodwork to the Headmaster's side. They milled about in whispered conversations outside of the formal dining room that had been enlarged to accommodate their numbers. Gossip was rife, especially when people began to note the pair of missing members who had not sent word of their absence.

When Albus Dumbledore finally made his appearance in the company of Amelia Bones, the small chattering clusters fell silent and parted before their combined solemnity. The pair swept into the formal dining room dragging the other members of the clandestine group in with them. It took a few moments for the room to settle but, neither Albus nor Amelia said anything. Their faces remained subdued and their eyes empty of emotion. At long last Dumbledore stood and raised his hand to needlessly draw everyone's attention to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for responding so quickly to my summons." He paused, overcome with emotion. This alone made everyone in the room shift nervously, but none more so than Severus Snape. "I have many difficult things to disclose to you tonight…things that will not be easy to accept."

Dumbledore was forced to stop again and recompose himself, giving his audience an opening. Hestia Jones jumped at the chance to ask the question that had been burning her tongue ever since she realized that Tonks wasn't in attendance.

"Where are Tonks and Fletcher?"

Amelia looked at Dumbledore expectantly, but saw that he wasn't going to be able to answer through his tears. Minerva McGonagall moved to his side and offered him her hand in silent support. The Director of the DMLE stood and pressed the aging wizard into his chair beside her.

"Auror Tonks and Mr. Fletcher are both missing in action."

The crowd of Order members immediately began murmuring at the revelation, but they quieted just as quickly as Remus Lupin leapt to his feet.

"Where's Harry?" Albus lowered his head, refusing to look up. "Answer me damn it! Where's my cub?"

The last was a growl laced with open menace. Amelia started to answer, but a hand on her forearm caused her to pause and look down. Albus motioned for her to sit and she complied reluctantly.

"Harry…" He coughed once to clear his throat. "It has been confirmed that Mr. Potter was killed earlier this evening, during a Death Eater attack on the East Surrey Hospital."

The room exploded in cacophony of denial as Remus folded limply back into his seat. Molly Weasley followed Lupin's example and began wailing hysterically. The sudden pall that clouded the meeting was oppressive and it would have remained that way for the rest of the night, had Remus Lupin not seen Severus Snape slinking towards the door. The force of the werewolf's exit from his chair shattered the piece of furniture to kindling as Remus launched himself over the table at the spy. Emmaline Vance and Kingsley Shacklebolt barely had time to move as the last Marauder, enraged by his grief, pounced on the greasy potions master. The room fell silent as Snape fumbled ineffectually for his wand.

Bill and Charlie Weasley leapt to their feet, but were stopped when Mad-Eye Moody stepped into their path. One look from the grizzled old warrior was enough to send them back to their seats. Remus for his part was lost in the terror of Snape's scent.

"Going somewhere Severus?" He growled.

"Unhand me Lupin!"

The protest was weak and Remus could smell a bouquet of other smells drifting off the hateful man beneath him. The stench of guilt was mixed with the tang of remorse. How ever weak the emotion might be, it was there – but the fact that Severus was feeling guilty unnerved Remus even more. He bent his head close to the man's hands and took a deep whiff, drawing in and cataloguing all of the strange odors that marked the man. A myriad of potions ingredients were present but surprisingly dulled by the charred aroma of smoke and acrid tang of spell fire. It was distinct enough to raise the hackles on the back of the werewolf's neck.

Remus wasted no time in hauling the man from the floor and pinning him to the wall, well off of his feet. Snape's wand made an appearance, but Lupin backhanded it and the silver dagger that followed it near Moody's feet.

"How did Harry die?"

"How should I know?" Snape snarled. Remus slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack the mahogany paneling.

"I wasn't asking you, Snivellus." He turned his head towards Dumbledore and Bones, without taking his gaze from the man in his hands. "How did Harry die Albus?"

"A Death Eater cast Fyrghul's Firestorm into Harry's hospital room." The aged wizard looked on the tableau sadly, but made no move to stop it. Remus took another strong whiff of Snape's scent and began to growl. It wasn't low either. This time everyone in the room could hear it.

"You were there."

"I don't know what you're talking about, werewolf! Release me at once!"

"Don't lie to me Snivellus!" Lupin's eyes narrowed and his voice was dripping with icy rage. His muscles tensed and the hair on his arm began to stand on end. "I can smell the mix of the hospital's antiseptic and the stench of burning flesh! I can smell the smoke and charred plastic, not to mention the unique odor from the spell residue! Dark spells leave a rather distinctive aftertaste. But, being the Dark Arts expert you are, you already knew that…didn't you, you traitorous ass!"

"…no…!" Snape's bladder lost control as he shook his head in denial. Remus howled his rage and grief to the uncaring heavens and in one swift motion he slammed the potions master into, and nearly through, the wall stunning his prey.

"YOU WERE THERE YOU GREASY BASTARD! YOU HELPED THEM KILL MY CUB!"

He could feel the wolf's fury rising in him and he did nothing to prevent it. With a mighty heave he threw Snape into the vaulted ceiling and let him drop. Something important broke on both impacts. Remus heard the bones snap, but didn't care. He simply pulled his foot back and buried it as deeply into Snape's stomach as he could. The pathetic little man folded around his leg like a rag doll. He lifted the man by the back of his robes with the intent to launch him the length of the room, but several red lights hit his back stealing his consciousness from him.

The rest of the room watched as the pair collapsed to the floor in a heap, uncertain who to help or what they should do next, as Moody, Amelia Bones, and Arthur Weasley lowered their wands. With a sigh, Amelia glanced around at the faces of her audience until her eyes came to rest on Poppy Pomfrey.

"Poppy, would you be so kind as to check over Professor Snape's wounds?" The medi-witch nodded and jumped to her feet as the head of the DMLE turned her attention to the Weasley patriarch. "Thank you for your assistance Arthur. The last thing we need is another death on our hands."

"You're welcome, Madame Bones." He paused as he slowly returned his wand to the pocket sewn into his sleeve. "But for the record, I wasn't saving Snape's life. I was preventing a good man from becoming a murderer."

"Noted." Amelia nodded once. "Thank you too, Master Auror Moody."

"I second Arthur's sentiments, Amelia. As far as I'm concerned, the Death Eater can rot in Hell." His magical eye spun madly in his skull before coming to settle on Snape's inert form. He absently reached down and collected both the wand and the silver dagger and held onto them for safe keeping.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Lupin brings a grave accusation to this body. How is this type of thing normally handled?"

Charlie Weasley snorted.

"You have something to say, Mr. Weasley?" She asked archly. Charlie had the decency to look a little ashamed, more from the withering glare that his mother shot him than the heavy gaze of Amelia Bones. It took three sharp nudges from his brother Bill to get up the nerve to speak his mind.

"Begging your pardon Madame Bones, but this type of thing is generally swept under the carpet." Amelia's narrowed eyes shot from Charlie to Dumbledore and then back.

"Please explain Mr. Weasley."

Charlie looked to his brother and father, silently wishing that he was back at the dragon preserve with that nasty tempered Ironbelly. Sure she had just gone into heat. Sure she was irritable and likely to remove his head if he got too close, but it seemed a much safer situation than the one brewing here. He swallowed the lump in his throat as the intimidating woman glared at him, and thanked Merlin for his family when Bill spoke up.

"Snape's the Order's spy amongst the Death Eaters, Madam Bones. As such, he's required to perform as any Death Eater would in order to maintain his cover." Bill took a moment to glare hatefully at the potions master before continuing. "In the past, he's always had ready excuses or information to deflect the suspicion and ire of the group."

"And when his excuses and reasons do not satisfy?" Bones asked sharply.

"Professor Dumbledore steps in." Bill shrugged.

Amelia nodded and closed her eyes. She settled in her chair and laced her fingers together and stared down the table in a way that made everyone except Moody and Arthur Weasley squirm.

"Poppy, what is his status?"

"Stable. Three broken ribs have been mended, but his right femur is broken in six places, his pelvis is severely cracked, and he dislocated his ankle in the landing. He'll need to regrow the femur and the pelvis, and I'll have to reset the ankle manually. Everything else is superficial"

"Splint the leg and bind the ankle. The rest of his injuries will have to wait since Professor Snape is going to be traveling tonight." The crowd began to murmur again.

"Shack. Detain Professor Snape for questioning concerning the death of Harry James Potter. Collect his wand and that questionable dagger that Master Auror Moody is holding as evidence. Search for any contraband and portkeys; a cavity search wouldn't be out of the question either. Go for broke, hell, check the scumbag's teeth to make sure they aren't hollow. I'm not about to let this one slip our leash because we overlooked something. Oh, and make certain that he is made aware of his rights when he wakes. We do this by the numbers and make it stick."

Amelia looked over the sad and vengeful faces of the group and wanted to scream. All this cloak and dagger crap made her sick.

"Arthur please see to it that Mr. Lupin makes it home, and if it isn't too much trouble make certain that someone remains with him. He's going to need all the support we can give him, and the last thing we need is a rogue werewolf complicating the situation any further than it already is." She turned her attention to Albus but was interrupted by Amos Diggory.

"I don't mean to challenge your decision on this Amelia, but what authority do you have over this group?" It was a stupid question, and Diggory knew it the moment that the words fell from his lips. Still, it was a valid one. This was generally Dumbledore's show, and she had simply seized the hippogriff's reins.

"I am acting strictly as the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amos. My authority comes from the Ministry of Magic." She leveled her formidable gaze on the man and leaned forward a bit on her elbows. "I know that Professor Snape resembles a vampire, but I do not think that the current situation merits the interest of someone from Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"That's not what I meant Amelia, and you know it!" He growled. "Snape is a valuable asset in the fight against Voldemort…an irreplaceable one! Taking him into custody will blind us to his movements!"

"Please allow me to explain the situation to you, as I explained it to Albus earlier this evening." Amelia's voice became very icy as she glared at Amos Diggory. "This little group of yours is not sanctioned or protected by the law. You are vigilantes and the only thing that is keeping me from having the lot of you arrested, is the fact that you have valuable information and resources that may help us put Voldemort down for good."

Her eyes passed over each member in attendance, pausing to weigh each in turn.

"It is obvious that the Ministry has been compromised…quite possibly to the highest levels. As such, I will be working with you in order to take back the Ministry and in turn, take the fight to the Dark Lord." She looked to Albus who nodded absently. "I will be helping Albus to coordinate our efforts and lead you in this endeavor."

"And if we don't want you as our leader?"

Amelia didn't know the man who voiced the question, but her response was to seal the door and to throw up a pair of potent anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards…all before anyone could react. It was a testament to her power and skill that she was able to move so quickly, and it cowed many of those sitting around the table.

"I'm afraid I don't know your name sir."

"Brolly, Madam Bones. Eugene Brolly."

"Let me be frank with you, Mr. Brolly. You have three choices before you. The first is to accept the winds of change and work towards a better tomorrow. Your second is to be obliviated and returned to your life none the wiser. Your third choice is to be arrested on charges of conspiracy and any other charge that I can find to level against you."

"We outnumber you considerably, Madam Bones." Brolly's audacity wasn't shared by all of those around the table, but more than a few nodded. "What's to keep us from obliviating you and going on as before?"

"I am." The quiet statement from the Headmaster rocked the room again. "After much deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that Amelia is correct. From this point forward, we will be working against Voldemort in coordination with Madame Bones."

"You have been making my job harder than it needs to be." Amelia stood and, with her hands flat against the table, leaned into the group. "Had I been made aware of certain things prior to today, Potter might still be alive."

"How can you be so sure?" Emmaline Vance challenged.

"For one thing Ms. Vance, with the information at your disposal, I would have found a way to exonerate Sirius Black and removed Mr. Potter from the abusive environment he was living in. This would have at the very least, prevented the bugglefug party you threw in Surrey this afternoon."

"It's easy to say what you would have done, Madam Bones." Emmaline Vance stared at her hands apathetically. "Hindsight is always clear. The question I have for you is simple: why should I trust you to lead us in this fight when Professor Dumbledore has been doing just fine without you?"

Amelia nodded her head and settled back into her chair.

"That's a fair question, Ms. Vance. I submit to you that Professor Dumbledore was not doing 'just fine' – in fact he has made many grave errors that could have been prevented if a proper system of accountability had been in place within this organization. Do you want to tell them Albus, or shall I?"

"Tell us what?" Moody growled.

"There was a prophecy…" Amelia started.

"Yes. Many of us guarded it last year before it was lost in the battle at the Ministry." Elphias Dodge cut in. Amelia shot Dumbledore a glare but turned back to the group.

"Be that as it may, do you have any idea of the prophecy's contents?"

"Not in detail." Moody said. "But it isn't that difficult to piece the clues together. Potter was a Child of Prophecy and it was implied that he had something to do with Voldemort's defeat."

"Correct." Amelia nodded. She looked at Dumbledore, gauging his reaction to what she was about to reveal. He simply shrugged – after all, what could revealing it hurt now? "But you will see that the details of the prophecy are more important than Albus let on. Many of his decisions have been influenced by his interpretation of this prophecy."

"So what's the prophecy say?" Bill asked.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

"Sweet Circe!" Hestia Jones summed up the rest of the group's shock succinctly. "When was the prophecy made?"

"According to Professor Dumbledore, and corroborated by Ministry records, the prophecy was recorded in March of 1980."

"That's why the Potter's went into hiding, isn't it?" Bill and the other new members started re-examining what they knew of the history of Voldemort's first rise. Dumbledore began to shift uncomfortably as many of the older crowd began to stare at him thoughtfully.

"It's also why Frank and Alice Longbottom were targeted." Moody's eyes narrowed as he looked at his old friend. "It doesn't explain why they didn't go into hiding along side the Potters though, does it Albus?"

"They chose not to." Many within the Order, both old and new, took the headmaster's statement at face value. Amelia and Mad-Eye weren't among that group though.

"That's a load of dragon dung Albus, and you know it." Moody snarled. "Frank and I were talking the week before the Lestranges came for them. He told me that you had assured him they would be safe…that there was no need to worry. I didn't understand why, but now I do."

The silence in the room was deafening, but Albus looked increasingly uncomfortable as more and more people began connecting the dots.

"Albus…tell me it isn't true." Minerva pleaded.

"Oh, it's true alright Min." Moody stabbed an accusing finger at the aged wizard. "Albus set the Potters up."

Many gathered at the table gasped or shook their heads in denial. It just couldn't be true.

"And not just them either. Now that I look at it, all the pieces are falling into place. Frank had too many relatives, didn't he Albus?" Moody sneered. "There would be no way that you could have molded young Neville into the weapon that he needed to be with so many hands interfering. But, Potter? That boy had no family to worry about. Lily would have just a soon shaved her head and run naked through Knockturn, than acknowledge she even had a sister. Poor James had already lost his parents and his sister by then too; and whatever extended family he might have had was wiped out by Grindlewald and Voldemort prior to that. This of course left young Harry with a large fortune, a worthless (if easily influenced) pair of muggle relatives, and a godfather."

Remus had he been awake at this moment surely would have killed Dumbledore.

"That's why Sirius never got a trial, isn't it?" Arthur Weasley's voice was quiet, but full of such loathing that many in the room flinched.

"I imagine so Arthur." Moody conceded. "Black was too much of a loose cannon for Albus' tastes. Being a Marauder and a former member of a prominently Dark family, were two strikes too many for Black. Why risk the Light's only weapon against Voldemort to someone so irresponsible and potentially untrustworthy?"

Minerva looked as though someone had stabbed her through the heart. Large glassy tears began to well in her eyes at each revealed accusation, even as those very same eyes narrowed dangerously. No one could deny the very feline hiss that slid from her throat, nor the fact that her eyes were now slit. She was the very epitome of the lioness come to the fore. The straw that broke her was the thought of her mentor allowing one of her children to be unjustly imprisoned. How could he condemn one of her sons to twelve years of hell on earth? How dare he sit back and allow the murder of her precious Lily and James? And Harry! Sweet Merlin! How could he permit all of that to happen to poor sweet Harry?

The tense atmosphere was thoroughly broken as the stately witch lost herself to the uncompromising rage and launched herself across the table at her former mentor and friend. Dumbledore had no time to react or brace himself for the attack and went kettle up when his transfiguration teacher body checked him.

Bedlam destroyed what little order that the meeting had retained and it took seven of the gathered men to restrain the Deputy headmistress – and none of them came away unscathed. At some point the door to the Drawing Room was shattered by a spell, finally allowing the children outside in the hall to gain entrance to the meeting. What they saw and heard only added to the pandemonium. Upon hearing of the events at the hospital, Hermione and Ginny joined the Deputy Headmistress in punishing anything that so much as moved, with Albus Dumbledore coming out much worse than he otherwise would have. Ron Weasley simply stood at the wreckage of the doorway and shook his head in stunned denial.

Bill Weasley, the least injured of the group, limped home that night with two black eyes, multiple bruises, a swollen nose from his sister's Bat Bogey Hex, and a split bottom lip. By the time she wore herself down, Minerva was little more than a broken, sobbing wreck. She clung to Hermione and Ginny, and it took the combined magic of Hestia Jones, Emmaline Vance, and Poppy Pomfrey to carry the women from the room. It was notable that the trio was crying almost as much as the Gryffindor women were for the loss of the child that they had come to love so much. Ginny and Minerva were put to bed, while Hestia escorted Hermione home.

Kingsley finally left to deliver Snape to the Ministry dungeon, and that seemed the cue for everyone else to depart. Albus was left battered, bruised, and broken with Sturgis Podmore, Daedelus Diggle, Moody, and Amelia. The Aurors stood back and allowed Albus' friends to gather him up and check him over. Both wore stony visages and shook their heads at the once venerable man. Justice was swift and sure, but both were terribly concerned about the long term fall out from this night. It seemed that hope was broken – just like the man that had done so much to preserve it.

**************

Nymphadora Tonks had been in a number of dicey situations in her relatively short career as an Auror, but this by far topped her list. She was laid out on her stomach with her hands and feet bound together behind her back. Being hogtied was not pleasant, but she once again thanked her lucky stars that she was a Metamophmagus. A few minor adjustments allowed her to ease the tension on her limbs and loosen the gag so that it wasn't as uncomfortable.

Sadly, that was the extent of her abilities at the moment. She'd tried to free herself from the ropes by shrinking her wrists, but the restraints shrunk with her. It was aggravating that someone knew enough about her abilities to cripple her like this, but she wasn't about to give up. Harry, assuming that he had been captured too, was counting on her.

Her head was covered with a black silk bag that must have been charmed, because the unnatural silence was such that she couldn't hear anything at all. Not even the rustling of her body against the cold floor. It had been hours since she'd woken, and no one had come for her. She'd had to enlarge her bladder twice in order to keep from making a mess and she was really looking forward to making her captors pay. They would rue the day that they crossed a PMSing Auror!

She hoped it was Bellatrix. Damn. That would be nice.

Another hour passed before Tonks felt something drape over her back. The telltale tingle of magic gripped her body, lifting it from the floor. Something nudged her knee, propelling her forward. She began counting immediately; marking off the average distance she was traveling in her head.

It didn't really tell her all that much, only that it had taken six minutes to reach their first stop, and another three to reach their second – two more minutes brought her to a rest on a soft, padded carpet. Her breasts ached from being smashed against the floor and she was forced to flatten them to ease her discomfort. She mentally cursed the heavy-handed bastard that was in charge of her treatment. She supposed it could have been worse, but this guy was being down right careless. She didn't know how many bumps and bruises she'd collected on her way to where ever they were.

Another four minutes passed before she felt the ropes go slack. Blood painfully rushed back into to her legs and feet, causing her to gasp and grind her teeth. She felt her body placed in a stiff, high-back chair with no padding whatsoever. Manacles attached themselves to her ankles and just above her knees before they finally freed her hands from one set of bonds, only to be magically bound again to the arms of her chair. She had to give these people credit, they weren't taking any chances by introducing a human element into the equation – Moody would have given these blokes gold stars for their paranoia. She just wished that she could say the same for herself. At the very least she could feel life returning to her limbs – that was a silver lining to this little dark cloud. Now if only they would remove the damn hood so that she could give them a piece of her mind, life would be just peachy.

Another fifteen minutes passed before a pair of hands started working on the ties to her hood. Tonks waited patiently for the bag to come free. When it did, she found herself blinded as her eyes rapidly tried to adjust to the reintroduction of light. She could feel her hair cycling through a violent rainbow of angry colors and she shifted her eyes to an intimidating solid black that helped ease the pain. Her mouth opened to let forth a stream of swear words that would have blistered the paint from the walls – sadly, someone beat her to the punch.

"Good evening Ms. Tonks."

Her head snapped immediately to the source of the voice and found herself facing the pointy ends of a number of bladed goblin halberds. They all looked nasty and very lethal. The bald man standing behind the wall of steel was stately and well dressed in a dark pin striped muggle three piece suit. His features and accent marked him as Turkish or perhaps Egyptian, but it was the heraldry of Azkaban that really threw her for a loop.

"Please forgive us for detaining you in this manner, but the safety of Lord Potter-Black is paramount."

"Lord Potter-Black?" It wasn't the pithy comeback that she'd been building to for the last little while, but she would forgive herself later. The man had totally derailed her mind with that little nugget.

"Indeed, Ms. Tonks. Lord Harry James Potter-Black." He smiled and stepped forward through the circle of steel, causing all the goblins to lift the tips of their pole arms. Sadly, it didn't make her feel any better. "Now then, we have known about Mr. Dumbledore's little club for quite some time. Unfortunately, we haven't known the extent of his interest in Lord Potter-Black until recently."

"Who are you? Where's Harry? So help me, if you've harmed one hair on his head I'm going to rip your bits off and shove them so far up your arse that you'll have to open your mouth to piss!"

The man ignored her bravado completely and knelt before Tonks smoothly. She could feel the pressure of his magic pushing on her own and it was intimidating.

"When we removed Lord Potter-Black from his relatives today, our security forces were surprised to find an off duty Auror casing the house with a known thief. Would you care to explain that please?"

"I'm not telling you squat, Jack. Not until you tell me who you are, what you've done with Harry, where I am, and give me a valid reason to cooperate."

"Ms. Tonks, who I am is not important at the moment. The important being is Uhurlgro Wornknuckle here." The man pointed to a very impressive looking goblin toying with a very nasty looking serrated dagger. "Master Uhurlgro is the Head of Security for Gingott's and to him, the most important thing in the world right now is determining the level of threat you pose to Lord Potter-Black."

Nymphadora started to open her mouth, but he overrode her quickly and efficiently.

"You see, Lord Potter-Black has asked for you to be a part of a very important ceremony, and as the Head of Security for Gringotts it is Master Uhurlgro's duty to ensure that he does not come to harm while in the care of the Goblin Nation. That in and of itself should allay your fears concerning Lord Potter-Black's health and give you a hint as to where we are at the moment. So, with that out of the way, I want you to understand one thing: before I release you from your bonds, you will work very hard to convince him and me that you are not a danger to my Lord. Do we understand one another?"

Tonks nodded resolutely and not for the first time cursed Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter for putting her in awkward positions. It took hours to answer the questions they had concerning her relationship to Harry. She was surprised that they didn't ask her any questions about the Order, but the bald man simply laughed and revealed everything that she knew about the group and their activities over the last year. That was shocking and more than a little upsetting. The idea that they had this much information meant that there was a massive leak in the Order – maybe even more than one.

Damn it. She knew she should have stayed in bed this morning.

By the time they released her, she felt like her bladder was going to explode. Thankfully they allowed her to use the facilities, albeit under the watchful eye of a female guard bearing the same Azkabanni coat of arms as the bald man.

Cambridge

The clock by her bed sounded its alarm, and a limp arm gently turned the noise off. The time switched from six thirty to six thirty one, a.m. but the room's occupant could have cared less. Hermione wasn't certain how she managed to find her way home. She remembered the vague feeling of someone carrying her through the door and concerned voices talking about what had happened, but beyond that everything else was a blur of pain and tears.

Her Harry was dead.

The injustice of it all left her feeling like a black hole had formed in her heart and was consuming all of the light in her life. The agony was nigh unbearable – so many dreams would go unfulfilled, and all of her hopes for a happy future with the young man she loved stolen away. Her world was suddenly bereft of hope, and she had no real idea or care about what would happen next. Her parents had tried to ask her about what had happened, but their efforts fell on deaf ears. By the time they finally gave up, it was well beyond midnight and Hermione was left to languish in the darkness.

Hours passed, but sleep never came. By the time the first light of dawn arrived, Hermione's tears had finally stopped and her waste bin was filled to overflowing with tissues. Time seemed fixed in that Celestial Moment – moving so slowly, yet when she blinked an hour had already passed. When the doorbell chimed, she idly noted that it was seven thirty – generally the time her parents were leaving the house for one of their practices. Getting visitors this early in the day was unnatural, which piqued her curiosity enough for her to drag herself out of bed. She palmed her wand out of habit, rather than any rational desire to do so. The idea of defending herself against anyone at that moment had lost all of its appeal.

The door chimed again as she opened her bedroom door, and she caught a glimpse of her mother moving to answer it through the railing of the balustrade. Quiet, yet polite, murmuring could be heard from the stoop as someone introduced themselves. Her mother's hushed voice was firm in its rebuke. Hermione couldn't see the entry from her position but, from the way that her father angrily stormed towards the door, she could tell that the visitor wasn't taking to being dismissed.

"I don't care who you represent!" Her father barked. "You will remove yourself from my property at once!"

There was a scuffle and a flash of bright blue light, followed by a loud thump. Hermione was moving before she even realized it. Her mother's screams were ignored as an icy rage gripped her heart. She stepped onto the balcony overlooking the entry and brandished her wand, intent on casting something rather nasty – what she saw below had her both curious and on guard.

A pair of goblins stood just inside the doorway, brandishing short staves that arced with electricity at one end. She assumed that it was the magical version of a cattle prod, or perhaps a taser. Regardless of what the short staves were, from the way her father was twitching on the floor, they sure worked. The invisibility cloaks that the goblins wore had been swept back to cover only half of their bodies, leaving looking like the mythical Chiruwi of Central Africa; half of a body, with only one leg, one arm, and one side. Hermione silently wondered if this was how the Chiruwi myth had been started in the first place. Rather than dwell on that thought any longer, the young witch turned her attention to the other figure behind the goblins menacing her parents.

The young woman was barely older than Hermione herself, with her dark brown hair pulled back into a tight braid that ended at her waist. Her dark business suit looked finely tailored, and clutched in her arms was an enormous tome that immediately grabbed Hermione's attention. As if sensing the scrutiny, the young woman raised her face to look at the young genius.

"Miss Hermione Granger?" Her tone was polite and professional.

"Yes?"

"Please forgive the actions of my escorts. They were told to allow no one to 'lay a hand' on me, something that I'm afraid that they took quite literally."

Hermione descended the stairs and bowed politely to the woman before gesturing her into the house.

"I understand completely. Please forgive the rudeness of my parents, Miss…"

The young woman nodded, earning a glare from Hermione's mother.

"Rebecca Demetra Antolios."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Antolios. Please make yourself at home, would you care for some tea?" Hermione forced a smile to her lips as she led the young woman and her guards into the sitting room.

"I am afraid I must decline, Miss Granger. I am presently representing the interests of the Gringotts International Banking Consortium and we are on somewhat of a tight schedule."

"I see. How may I help you today?" Hermione folded her hands in her lap, doing her best to mimic Professor McGonagall while looking and feeling like the bottom of a Calcutta taxi cab.

"Your presence has been requested at the Diagon Alley branch."

"May I ask why?"

"It concerns the interests of Lord Baron Potter-Black."

Shocked, it was all Hermione could do to keep from breaking down again.

"I…I see." She paused long enough to square her shoulders and nod. "Of course. May I have a moment to gather my bag and freshen up?"

"No!" Hermione flinched at the sound of her father's voice. "I forbid you to leave this house with them!"

She leveled a sharp gaze at her father and pursed her lips.

"You 'forbid' me? I thought that we settled this father. So long as I made my grades, you and mother would not interfere with my annual obligations." Her tone was frigid, leaving absolutely no doubt that Dan Granger had overstepped the line.

"Hogwarts' term is over. Your time belongs to us!"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath.

"If you will excuse me for a moment, Miss Antolios, I will gather my bag and be with you presently."

"Like Hell you will! I've put up with this crap long enough!" Dan raged. "I am your father and I will not tolerate your insubordination any further! You are through with this magic nonsense!"

Hermione ignored him and made her way to the stairs, only to be pulled up short by a painful jerk on her arm. She was swung around and thrown against the wall hard enough to bounce. Somewhere in the background, Hermione heard her mother screaming for her husband to stop, but the man was beyond reason.

"I WILL NOT BE IGNORED!" Her father towered over her for a moment before he found her wand pressed under his chin.

"And I will no longer be abused." She growled. Her father, eyes suddenly bulging, swallowed and backed away holding his hands up and as far from his daughter as possible. Narrowing her eyes, she whipped her cell phone from her pocket and speed dialed her lawyer. "Sam? Hermione. Sorry to bother you so early, but Dan just crossed the line. Yes. Yes. No, he threw me against the wall. No, I don't need the police. As a matter of fact there were witnesses besides my mother. I'm not sure, let me ask them and get back with you. Can you start the paperwork? That's fine. Yes, I have a place to go. I'm heading for London presently. I'll call you as soon as possible to give you all the details."

With a quiet "beep" she folded up the phone and pocketed it, never once taking her attention off of the man in front of her.

"Miss Antolios, would it be too much to ask for your assistance in packing my things? I don't believe I will be returning to this residence at any time in the near or distant future."

"Certainly, Miss Granger."

"Hermione please! Don't do this!" Emma Granger was in tears as her family literally fell apart before her eyes.

"Be quiet Emma. The ungrateful little brat has made up her mind."

"No Dan." Hermione pressed the point of her wand just a little harder into the soft tissue beneath the man's chin. "You made up my mind the moment you decided to get physical about things."

"You walk out that door, don't expect us to open it for you again." Dan snarled.

"Don't worry." She eased up on her wand, but didn't put it away. "I won't."

It took all of ten minutes to pack everything in Hermione's room that she was going to take with her. It wasn't all that hard, considering that the goblins stood guard outside her door and that she had pretty much been supporting herself since entering Hogwarts. The few things that her parents had given, or supplied her with, were left while everything else was shrunk and neatly packed into Hermione's trunk.

Crookshanks was scooped into her arms and the group marched out of the house, amidst the screams of her father and the tearful begging of her mother. The walk to the stylish black, Rolls-Royce Phantom had an audience, as most of the neighbors had heard the raised voices. Luckily, the goblin escorts were already under their cloaks well before they had left the house. Hermione neither cared about the crowd, nor slowed her pace as her mother nearly ran to her side.

"Please Love, don't leave. We can work this all out." Hermione ignored her. "He didn't mean it! You have to understand! He's just worried about you. You came home from school injured, and then the ruckus from last night…"

That made Hermione pause, as the driver popped the boot and put her trunk in.

"That 'ruckus' as you so delicately put it, was the fallout of my best friend's murder." She hissed. Emma Granger backed away from her daughter as the young witch stalked forward. Her hair was starting to rise on a magical wind and her eyes were literally glowing. "The man I loved, my Harry, was stolen from me, and you have the gall to excuse the fact that your husband threw me against the wall in order to enforce his will!"

There were murmurs all around her as she tore into her mother, but she didn't care. She wasn't coming back here, so what if she made a scene?

"You and your husband have stolen my childhood! You pushed me to be your 'little genius' so that you could brag to everyone and their dog that I came from your genetic material!" She swept her free arm wide to encompass the gawking neighbors. "I am not your toy poodle that you can drag out at parties and parade around! I am not your 'Love' or your 'Dear' or your 'Darling' – you have never shown one ounce of true love or affection for me in your life! What makes you think I would believe anything will change? That man hasn't worried about me since I was eleven! The only thing that he wants is to control his show pony so that he doesn't lose social status amongst his peers!"

Hermione screamed and spun away from her mother, stalking to the car door that the driver was holding open for her and Rebecca. The young woman stood by, patiently and professionally detached from the drama.

"Please! Hermione! Let me make this right!"

"You can't."

Rebecca preceded her companion into the car and Hermione felt one of the goblins slide into the seat before her. She paused at her mother's light touch on her shoulder.

"Where will go?"

"Away from here. You can call or write Sam with any messages for me."

"Hermione?" The young genius turned and pinned her mother with an impatient glare. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too, Emma. Me too."

And with that, she slipped into the car and allowed the driver to close the door. She settled into the spacious white leather seat, refusing to look out the dark tinted windows at the broken face of her mother. The car pulled away soon after leaving the neighborhood in a buzzing tizzy, just like Harry Potter had.

**************

Nymphadora was both relieved and understandably surprised to see her mother and father enter into the waiting room that she had been assigned to. The goblins escorting her parents weren't the same scary militant bastards that had been keeping her company, but they were by no means soft looking. More surprising still the parade didn't stop with just her mum and dad, for following them was a bedraggled Hermione Granger who looked like death warmed over. She waved to her parents, who were also looking decidedly down, and was taken completely by surprise when Andromeda scooped her daughter into a bone crushing hug.

"Mum? What's wrong?" The only answer was a soft weeping as Andromeda clung to her child. She looked at her dad helplessly and then glanced at Hermione, only to find the young woman had curled into one of the office's large leather chairs and was crying twice as hard as Nymphadora's mother. "Dad, what the hell's happened?"

"I take it you haven't seen this morning's Prophet or the BBC?" Tonks shook her head and frowned impatiently. "Harry Potter died last night in a Death Eater raid on East Surrey Hospital."

Tonks shoved her mother roughly into her father's arms and whipped her wand out. Daggers and halberds were immediately drawn by the goblins, but Tonks didn't care. All she felt was a helpless rage over having been played. Her hair writhed like snakes and her skin turned pitch black.

"Damn you!" She hissed at the goblins. "You lying sons of bit…"

"Auror Tonks!" The bald interrogator from last night strode through the door with a pretty young woman in a dark, muggle business suit just behind him. Tonks' wand sliced through the air so that she had a perfect shot all lined up. The muscled man remained unfazed at the apparent danger.

"You lied to me you worthless bastard! You said Harry was fine! You said I would get to see him!"

"I have not lied to you, Auror Tonks." The man moved to one of the empty chairs and motioned for the young woman to sit. It was only then that Tonks noticed the massive tome in the young witch's arms.

"Are you saying that Harry's alive?" Hermione's voice was raw with hope.

"All will be revealed in a moment, Miss Granger." The young woman smiled softly. "However, before we can proceed any further I must insist that certain safety measures be adhered to."

Hermione looked ready to promise her first born, if only to drag the information out of the young woman. Tonks could empathize.

"Before we go any further, please allow me to set the foundation for what is to come." She opened the gargantuan tome and after rapidly flipping through a number of pages, she tapped a page. The large book glowed, before producing a handful of parchment in the woman's waiting hands. "My name is Rebecca Demetra Antolios. The man to my left is Bomani. We represent the sovereign nation and throne of Azkaban."

She handed the stack of parchment to Bomani, who in turn passed a sheet to each of the Tonks family and Hermione in turn. She gave the group a moment to look over the documents, before continuing.

"These, as you can see, are confidentiality agreements that will legally and magically protect the highly sensitive information you are about to learn. It is a binding magical oath that will compel those that sign them to keep the secrets of Azkaban. Please read them carefully, and in the event that you are agreeable to binding yourselves to the accord," She pointed to the short table against the wall behind Andromeda. "…our hosts have provided us with the blood quills necessary to complete the contract. Should you not wish to be a part of the agreement, we will obliviate you and ask that you wait in the main lobby for those that choose to sign."

Rebecca gave them time to read through the documents completely, and it was no surprise to her, or Nymphadora for that matter, to see Hermione jump from her chair and sign. Andromeda shook her head and continued through at a more respectable pace.

"Miss Antolios, I have a few concerns that I would like addressed before I sign." Andromeda could hear Hermione's teeth grind behind her, and sent a quick look at her daughter before continuing. Nymphadora quickly moved to placate the distraught girl. "The language is pleasantly straightforward and easy to understand, therein I must ask if it is completely necessary to pledge ourselves as citizens of Azkaban in order to maintain confidentiality?"

"Yes, Mrs. Tonks. The reason behind this declaration is two-fold; first, as citizens of Azkaban you gain the political protection of the throne. That alone will go a long way to preventing most people from attempting to pressure information from you. Second, and more importantly, it allows the magic of Azkaban itself to guard the information in the event of torture, mental coercion, which includes compulsion from spells like the imperious curse and potions like veritaserum, and the unlikely event of influenced treason. Upon signing, you need not declare your new citizenship to anyone, nor will you be required to move. You may think of it as dual citizenship at best."

"Will we be required to pay taxes or duties?" Ted Tonks asked from his chair next to his wife. "Are there any hidden costs to gaining this citizenship?"

"There is an annual five percent tithe on the gross income of all Azkabanni citizens that is collected for the upkeep of the militia and the provisional government. However it is not compulsory for those that have dual citizenship. Dual citizens usually pay between one and three percent, depending on the country that they live in." Rebecca paused and folded her hands over the large tome in her lap. "Beyond that, the only 'hidden' requirement for all citizens is mandatory military training within the Militia. Service is completely optional unless the nation is at war, and there are many branches of the Militia to serve in due to the modernization of our military."

"Modernization?" Andromeda and Ted shared a look.

"Considering the rapid pace of military escalation throughout the world, Azkaban's leadership has done their best to remain current or ahead of our mundane contemporaries; both in training methods, and offensive and defensive weaponry. It is one of the reasons why many of the smaller magical and mundane nations utilize us a police force. We are the best of the best, within and outside of the magical world."

"Are there any other perks?" Ted winced as his wife pinched his thigh. Rebecca smiled prettily and nodded.

"It is a valid question, Mum."

"Nymphadora!"

"I assure you, Mr. and Mrs. Tonks, Auror Tonks and Miss Granger – that even if all things do not go as planned here today; you will find that Azkaban takes care of his own. We have access to the oldest living library in the world. Our consumer services are at the leading edge of magical technology, and our education system is second to none. Should you tire of the United Kingdom, we have holdings throughout the Mediterranean, the Agean, the Atlantic, and the Caribbean."

"I'm not certain that I'm convinced." Andromeda looked down at the contract warily.

"Damn it Mum! Just sign the bloody thing so we can find out what the hell is going on with Harry! Hermione's going spare, and I'm not far behind her!"

Tonks stormed over to the table and signed her name with a bit more force than Hermione. Her father, after another silent conversation with his wife quickly followed. It didn't take much more pressure to convince Andromeda to comply. The moment she did, she felt the magic of the oath take hold and settle around her heart.

"Thank you for signing." Rebecca looked beyond relieved for some reason, but no one pressed her about it. "Allow me to allay your fears and tell you that as of two hours ago, Lord Baron Potter-Black was alive and in good health deep within the Hall of Legacy awaiting your arrival."

Hermione let out a joyful sob and collapsed into a weeping mess all over again. Andromeda took the opportunity to comfort the girl while contemplating the title Harry Potter had gained. Rebecca waited for a moment, until Hermione had composed herself enough for the conversation to continue.

"Due to a blood adoption, by the late Baron Sirius Black, the Lord Baron has been brought to Gringotts in order to comply with the formality of proving his lineage so that he might inherit his adopted father's legacy."

"And he asked that we three," Andromeda pointed to Hermione, Nymphadora, and herself. "…participate in the Legacy Ritual?" She was stunned. She didn't even know the boy and he was asking for her to stand in place of his mother. That begged the question of what her daughter and Miss Granger represented in his heart – sister or wife?

"And what is Azkaban's interest in Mr. Potter?" Ted asked hesitantly.

"The Lord Regent has been tracking the lost royal blood line all of his life."

"But that is a myth! The royal bloodline was wiped out!" Andromeda protested. Rebecca shook her head.

"Not so. A daughter was smuggled out of the castle and replaced with the daughter of a very brave and faithful scullery maid. Though the scullery maid and her daughter were killed, they gave their lives that their beloved princess would live. From there the young heir of Azkaban grew up in anonymity amongst allies and the bloodline preserved. The Lord Regent has since followed the elusive trail into the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, more importantly the late Lord Sirius Black."

"Sweet Circe!" Nymphadora felt faint. She was royalty! Well, sort of.

"It goes much deeper than that, but due to time constraints we must prepare ourselves for the ritual. I will do my best to answer all of your questions as we head down to the Hall of Legacy, what I cannot answer here in Gringotts I will certainly make myself available for once the ritual is complete." She motioned for the group to rise and follow, and then gestured for her goblin escort to lead them at a quick pace to their next destination.

Nymphadora took it upon herself to support Hermione while her mother grilled Rebecca about Azkabanni history and the current political arena. Her father spoke quietly with Bomani about military training for "Old Farts" like himself. Not for the first time, and most definitely not for the last, Tonks cursed Harry "Bloody" Potter for making her life more interesting than it should really be.

End Chapter Two


	10. Heir of Avalon 03

Heir of Avalon

Chapter 3

Notes & Disclaimers: Rebecca and Caer Azkaban belongs to Rorsch (see my favorite authors – The story is Lord of Caer Azkaban), Potter belongs to JK Rowling, everything else is me.

**************

Harry was cold. Cold and naked. Well, not completely – he still had a cheese cloth thin poncho…thingy, draped over his shoulders. The last four hours had been nothing short of mortifying, since Gillian had set about inscribing runes over the entirety of his skin. And when he said 'entirety' he mean every square inch of skin from the bottoms of his feet to his genitals.

Thankfully, Gillian was a total professional, and hadn't made any crude comments or off color jokes. She remained focused and detached throughout the whole process. Callisto, who had been assisting the Genopath, lasted up until Gillian told Harry to drop his trousers before making a hasty retreat to the far end of the room and burying her face in his copy of "Hogwarts: a history". There was something terribly erotic about having someone write on your skin while an attractive girl was sitting not twenty five feet away. Erotic or not, the thoughts were disturbing and Harry was very happy that the process was complete.

The Genopath had assured him that the ink she'd used wouldn't smear or smudge now that she was done, but Harry didn't feel like taking the chance. Knowing his luck he'd skin his knee or something ruining all of Gillian's hard work. That was why he was laying down on the cold, hard floor of the chamber to wait patiently for everyone else to arrive so that the ceremony could start.

"HARRY!"

The urgent sound of Hermione's voice echoed throughout the chamber, jolting Harry from his thoughts. He lifted himself carefully from the floor and braced himself for the inevitable collision. To his surprise it never came. Half way between him and the door, his most faithful friend had run afoul of Callisto. In the blink of an eye, Rebecca's sister had Hermione face down on the ground with a knee in the young witch's back and the tip of Callisto's wand pressed firmly against her exposed throat. The predatory way that she was eyeing the other newcomers only reinforced the image of a thinly leashed killer in Harry's mind.

"Callisto. What are you doing?"

"Protecting my Lord's person."

"What are you talking about?" Harry glanced between the young woman and her sister, looking for some clue of what she might be talking about. He came up empty handed. "Let Hermione go."

The command was surprisingly fierce, making Callisto and everyone else nearby jump at the power laced in his voice. The young woman immediately leapt from her position on Hermione's back and stepped back. Harry thought her whole demeanor had changed from lioness to whipped puppy in between breaths. Rebecca, seeing the state that her sister was in stepped forward and bowed to Harry.

"Please forgive my sister, Lord-Baron. She was merely fulfilling her duty."

"To assault my friend?" Harry growled. He stepped forward to help Hermione to her feet, but Rebecca was already there.

"No, my Lord-Baron; to protect your life from any and all threats."

Her tone was soft, yet undeniably firm. There was no impropriety in her speech, but Harry still felt like a child being corrected by his mother.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He glanced Callisto's way, causing her to blush and look down.

"There was no harm done." Hermione smiled as she smoothed her clothes. "I'm glad you have someone looking to keep you safe."

She approached him slowly this time, and Harry noted that her body trembled. He also saw that her eyes were full of tears. He opened his arms to her and she fell into them eagerly. Her tears were hot against his chest and the young woman's wracking sobs shook them both. The rest of those scattered throughout the hall turned away to give the pair some privacy, until Gillian stepped forward and cleared her throat.

"Harry. It's almost time." Gillian said. He nodded, wiping Hermione's teras from her cheeks with a warm smile. Once he was certain she had herself under control, he motioned for Gillian to proceed. After a brief round of introductions, the solicitor addressed the group as a whole.

"What, if anything, do you know about the Narys Heritage Ritual?"

"Absolutely nothing." Harry grinned proudly, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Hermione. Gillian snorted.

"How about you three?" She asked, directing the question to the Tonks women and Hermione.

Hermione opened her mouth, but was beaten to the punch by Andromeda.

"The ritual is ancient. It was one of the great magics, passed down from generation to generation from the founding of the Atlantean Empire until today. The tradition of the Norns, the Fates, and the Moirae were all inspired by this rite. The ceremony itself was first developed by the Narys an Atlantean sage in order to ensure the right of succession amongst its kings. The ritual focuses on and celebrates the feminine aspect, even though Atlantis was a patriarchal society. This reverence for the femininity has been a well documented fact by both the magical world's anthropologists and historians since Roman times.

"The feminine aspect is closely tied to the concept of time. Many speculate on just why this was, with the common consensus being that the roles women played throughout their life were generally more clearly defined and easily categorized into three basic roles: the Crone, the Matron, and the Maiden. In the heritage ritual, these symbolic positions are not representative of the grandmother, mother, and sister as many suspect. Traditionally, the patron's mother would stand for the Crone; representing the past and those that had gone before. She would be given a specially crafted bone athema, a ritual dagger, which would draw blood from the right wrist of the focus of the ritual. This was a position of significant trust, for it would be, and had been, all too easy to assassinate an up and coming king.

"The Matron was customarily represented by the wife or love interest. She signified the present, the tying to the now. She stands in the position of ultimate trust, for the Matron's role is to draw blood from the heart itself with a long silver needle.

"The last of the triumvirate, was the Maiden. She represented the unwoven future; the sowing for days to come. As the symbol for hope, the Maiden drew blood through the ephemeral and unseen force of magic; generally using a special cutting spell in order to draw blood from the left wrist, as the Crone drew it from the right. The Maiden's role was generally filled by a virgin sister, niece, or other close relation."

Andromeda tapered off, looking to Gillian to see if she had missed anything.

"Textbook, Mrs. Tonks. I couldn't have said it better myself." Gillian smiled at the woman's gracious nod. The solicitor turned her attention to Hermione and Tonks. "Now then, we need to vet the pair of you for the roles you will be assigned. This means I need to ask you a rather embarrassing question."

"I think I know where this is going." Nymphadora grimaced. "My cherry's gone."

Ted shifted uncomfortably, but his wife pinned him with a glare. Harry felt for the poor bloke. He imagined the last thing any father wanted to hear was that his baby girl was no longer a virgin. Gillian spared the man a soft grin before shifting everyone's attention to her next victim.

"Ms. Granger?"

"Uhmm…yes." She blushed heavily under the collective scrutiny. "I mean to say that, yes I am still pure."

"Very good." Gillian clapped. "Now that we know the roles we will play, we have about fifteen minutes and…" She glanced at her watch carefully. "…thirty nine seconds before the rite must start. Ladies if you would be so kind as to go behind the screens, we will purify you and get everything else squared away. Harry, I'll need you at your place of honor. Do you remember what we discussed about the meditation technique?"

Harry nodded and started moving forward.

"Very good. Rebecca, please remove Harry's shield and help him into position. Callisto, if you would be so kind and please help me prepare these ladies; we can get this party started."

Harry felt terribly self conscious as Rebecca calmly and professionally helped him remove the only article of clothing hiding his nudity. He felt his whole body blush as both Tonks and Hermione seemed to take a very, very long appreciative look over his naked body. He felt some pride in the fact that both young women seemed to trip over air as their eyes traveled up and down, but soon the embarrassment faded and he found himself at the center of a host of runes. Rebecca knelt carefully beside him and began talking to him in a quiet, even voice, helping his mind and body relax. All too soon the world fell away and his mind began to drift in a timeless sea.

When he finally returned to reality, his world and the world of so many others would have changed yet again.

**************

Giddy. It wasn't a word normally associated with megalomaniacal villains bent on genocidal purging of a branch of humanity. But, unfortunately, it was the ideal word to describe Voldemort's mood as dawn crest the horizon. It had taken quite a bit of maneuvering throughout the night, yet considering the blow the magical world would be feeling this day, how could he ignore such a ripe opportunity to demoralize them further?

Potter's death at the hands of his Death Eaters the night before was a masterful stroke of luck. Even Voldemort could acknowledge that. Potter had ghosted through so many of his attempts with such blessed luck that the Dark Lord wondered if he had been blessed by the gods themselves. It was ludicrous and he would never admit to the thought, or the other doubts that had begun stirring of late concerning the boy.

Still, the child's death just proved that luck was not a skill that could be relied upon. It could be bottled and used sparingly, but the universe always seemed to come back and balance the scales at the worst time. It was why Voldemort chose to make his own brand of luck, one based upon skill and true control, rather than blind faith and hope.

He watched the dawn, relishing in the heady feeling that his path was the true path. Dumbledore's bilge was nothing more than empty platitudes that disillusioned the harsh, true vision of reality. Voldemort was intent on showing these sheep the truth of his reality. The strong rule the weak through fear. As he had said so long ago to his now fallen nemesis – there was no good or evil, there was simply power. He would show the weak minded fools of magical Britain that he was the avatar of Power. He was immortal, and even their greatest (if over rated) heroes couldn't stand against him.

The Dark Lord looked at the small army of wizards and witches he'd gathered together in the heart of a London cemetery. Mixed within their ranks were the foul and the wicked creatures of shadow and blood: hags and trolls, giants and wights, and three hissing wyverns to round things out. He grinned malevolently as the sun rose, bloody, at their backs. Yes, today, he would show these weak willed mites the power of a god.

He raised his arms high and began the vile ritual to raise the inferi that would march before his army. The ground trembled and rolled as his magic pushed outward. And the dead rose. Voldemort cackled maniacally as the scent of death and decay billowed from the empty graves. Was he not truly a master of life and death?

"Go forth my minions! Go forth and remind these children why they fear to name me!"

A raucous cheer surged from the throats of the gathered host as one by one, groups popped away by portkey or apparition, to wage war against magical and muggle alike. He watched them leave, until at last only one strike force was left. It was by far the most powerful, containing over fifty witches and wizards, three of the ten giants he'd recruited for this endeavor, thirty inferi, and the trio of wyvern. He did not expect Gringotts to be an easy treasure to obtain, but by the end of the day he fully expected to control the wealth of magical Britain. After all, why wage a war of attrition, if you can simply seize control of a country through its economy? Who would dare fight him if he controlled their vaults and their ability to purchase food?

"We will not stop until Diagon Alley is flooded with goblin blood." He hissed. His horde bellowed their bloodlust and he activated their portkeys personally.

Yes. Yes…he would show all these fools what the true meaning of power was.

**************

Albus Dumbledore sighed tiredly as he and Amelia walked through the halls of the Ministry. Crowds parted before them like schools of fish before sharks. The night had worn on him, and he'd finally been able to heal the damage that the ruckus at the Order meeting had done him. In spite of that, he still looked like he'd tried to drag an uncooperative elephant through a moor.

He continued to follow Amelia through the corridors, pondering his freedom. It seemed entirely out of character for the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to allow a criminal to walk free. And contrary to what most might think, Albus wasn't foolish enough to try and lie about what he'd been responsible for. His intentions might have been pure, but he could now see just how misguided and negligent his methods had been. Rather than wasting the energy trying to discern her motives, the aged headmaster felt it would be more prudent to simply ask her.

"Why have you not arrested me?"

"Are you so eager to see the inside of a cell?" She countered.

"Of course not." He murmured. "But I cannot deny that I deserve to be in one either."

"Good. It means that you've got a heart and a conscience."

They continued to walk until they entered the lifts. The press of bodies and awe-struck looks were agitating to them both, but years of practice allowed them to ignore the gawking until the lift was finally empty.

"You didn't answer my question. Why am I still free?"

"Who says you are?" Amelia wheeled on the aged figure head and stabbed a finger in his chest. "If it were a perfect world, Albus, I would have seen you kissed the moment I learned how loosely you played with a child's life and happiness. If it were a perfect world, Harry Potter would still be alive to watch as your guilty verdict was handed down. If it were a perfect world, the dementors would either be feasting on your memories or your soul. I could really care less which."

Dumbledore had the presence of mind not to frown at her callous hatred.

"Sadly, we're not living in a perfect world, are we? No, we live in a world of morons, power-mad freaks, and brainless sheep that are too damn lazy to put the effort in to solve their own flaming problems. If things were even just a little different, you could bet your pruney, decrepit arse that I would have you stripped of every title and power at your disposal so fast, it would make a quickling's head spin!"

"I see. Instead of imprisonment, you intend to use me and my influence to your advantage."

"Damn straight." Amelia growled as the lift doors opened to her floor. Albus dutifully followed behind her.

"You do realize that no one can perfectly manipulate the future."

"You know from experience, don't you?" Amelia hissed as she entered her office and started slamming things down on her desk.

"Sadly, yes. At the very least I'm trying to save you the burden of my mistakes."

"The difference between you and I, Albus, is simple. I'm not trying to manipulate events. I'm simply using you to keep events from spiraling out of control faster than we can manage. I'm not naive Albus. You and I both know that everything is going to hell in a hand basket faster than we can spit. The only reason you haven't been kissed for dooming us, is because you are a symbol for those who don't know any better. Therefore, you will act as a rallying point for what forces we can muster. You will be the beacon of hope for as long as hope can hold out."

"And should I decline to be your tool?"

"There is no room to decline, Albus. You know your options. You will do as you are told, or you will not leave this office alive. After which, I will proceed to send a very thick and explicit report, containing transcripts of every conversation we've had since this whole fiasco began, to every wizarding newspaper across the globe. And in the sad case that I should somehow die prematurely, or under suspicious circumstances, that report will still find itself being sent out.

"You are thorough, I will give you that Amelia." He sighed as he settled into the armchair opposite her desk.

"You don't get to my position with people like Fudge and Scrimgeour at you back, without learning more than a few survival skills."

"Alastor would be proud."

"Uncle Mad-eye taught his god-daughter well."

"BOSS!" Amelia's door slammed open and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood within its frame panting. "Floo's down!"

"Who's on duty?"

"Edgecomb. She's barricaded herself in the office with two other operators."

"Hostages?"

"Looks that way." The tall black man nodded.

"Damn it all to hell and back! We do not need this now!" She growled. "On your feet Albus. It looks like Voldemort's already starting to play his pawns. If that's the case, then we've work to do."

**************

Hermione blushed as she and Tonks were lead from behind the privacy screen, clad only in a gauzy piece of pure, white, Egyptian cotton. The dress, if one could call it that, was basically one piece of cloth, twenty four inches wide, and split down the center a meter above the hem. It was much like Harry's cloth "poncho" that had left so little to the imagination, save for the fact that it was belted at the waist by a gold and ivory chain.

The young witch felt terribly exposed in front of the people set to witness the ritual. The goblin elders didn't really faze her too badly. They were humanoid, but she had no real connection to them or their society; which made the situation much more bearable. The human men though…. It might have just been her over active imagination, but she felt like she was the focus of all their attention. In one breath it was exciting, but even now, she could feel her skin flush from all the imaginary eyes tracking her. If it had been just Harry, that would have been a different story altogether. But it wasn't just Harry, and her nerves were frayed because of it.

Speaking of her green-eyed love, Hermione turned her attention to the focus of the ritual, only to trip all over herself at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived. There, laying at the center of the rune array, was her Harry in all his natural glory. The heat in her cheeks tripled at the lean muscles covered in runes. Hermione swallowed hard, and immediately turned her eyes to her feet. Tonks whistled quietly beside her, only to be slapped upside the head by her mother.

The young genius wanted to growl, but did her best to beat down the jealousy that was rising to the fore. Gillian, while painting runes over various parts of their bodies, had pointedly warned all three women about the need for emotional stability during the initial phase of the ceremony. They were to focus on their feelings for Harry, no matter how inconsequential they might be, in order to allow the ritual's magic to anchor itself. The deeper the emotion the easier the magic would flow.

It was hard though, not to feel threatened. Tonks was a metamorph, and an older woman to boot. It might be silly to think that the Auror had any designs for Harry, but then again, considering some of the crap that she'd dealt with from the upperclassmen at Hogwarts, the idea might not have been so far fetched. And that was just Tonks. The other two young women in hall were by no means innocent. Hermione would be blind not to notice the shy glances both Rebecca and her sister Callisto were shooting Harry's way when they thought no one was looking. It was frustrating to be so close to Harry, and not be able to confess how strongly and deeply she felt for him. Toss onto that weight, the fact that three other young women seemed to be showing interest in her man, and it was enough to make her want to start hexing someone.

Hermione did her best to find her center and breathe calmly. Harry, from the looks of things, was already deeply relaxed and focused. She needed to do the same, if only to ensure that everything went well. She would deal with these feelings and issues after the ritual was complete.

"Alright people." Gillian's quiet voice tore Hermione from her thoughts. "We have a little less than three minutes and fifty seconds to get ourselves ready. Ladies please take your places."

There was quiet shuffling as the trio moved to their assigned spots, forming a triangle with Harry at the center; Andromeda with her bone athema, Tonks with the long silver needle, and Hermione with Harry's wand. The young witch cradled the holly and phoenix feather wand close to her heart, relishing the warmth and sense of protection that it gave off. It was decidedly Harry, which made it much easier to focus on her deep love for the young man. She had never made the mental connection between Harry's wand and the wizard that wielded it. It really was a symbolic match; Harry, like Fawkes, seemed immortal. Voldemort had tried to kill him so many times, whether face to face or through proxy, so many times. Yet Harry refused to die, or "stay" dead. He kept getting reborn from the ashes as it were, seemingly more powerful than his previous incarnation.

This realization changed something in Hermione. Perhaps it was all of Harry's successes to this point, and perhaps it was something just a little more spiritual; whichever it was, Hermione now had a stronger reassurance that Harry would survive anything Tom Riddle threw at him. It wasn't that Harry was immortal, but it was an assurance that Harry would overcome the evils that tried to obstruct his path through life. He'd overcome everything else, why would he give in now? That confidence overrode the constant terror that she had been feeling since leaving the grounds of Hogwarts at the end of last term. The fears of Harry's "saving-people-thing" getting him killed were finally put to rest. Harry was Harry. He would do what he needed to do. And if she played her cards right, he would always return safely to her arms, to be loved and love her in return.

"Twenty seconds, ladies." Gillian's voice cut through Hermione's thoughts, dragging her out of her daydream. "Prepare yourselves."

The solicitor gave the ten count and, without missing a beat, Andromeda began the simple chant that set the runes at her feet aflame. Eldritch energy exploded throughout the room, sweeping Hermione's senses with it. She could dully hear Tonks take up the chant across from her, but the rest of her attention was on the magic that seized and filled her frame. It was like bathing in ice cold acid. That was the only image that seemed even remotely close to what she was feeling. It swelled within her like a tsunami, and when it crested, she was washed away in its current.

She knew her voice had added itself to the chorus, but she had no control over it. She couldn't have stopped if she'd wanted to. The magic had control and, for better or worse, she was committed to the long haul.

A part of her mind watched Andromeda glide over the runes without touching the floor. Harry rose from his resting place to meet her, on spears of neon blue lightning. She gently made her cut, drawing a line of deep crimson on Harry's beautiful, pale, skin. Time seemed to slow as the blood flowed from the wound, and Hermione was captivated by the first pencil thin stream that cascaded to the floor. Once the blood hit the rune cluster beneath Harry's right arm, the magic saturating the room exploded twice as forcefully as it had at the start. It was so heavy that Hermione felt literally pressed in place. The only thing she could liken it to, was a bottomless barrel ride she'd once rode at a fair so very long ago. It was the same centrifugal press she'd felt when the bottom of the ride dropped out from beneath her feet, leaving her and the other riders stuck to the wall of the carnival attraction.

Some part of her mind catalogued the process of the blood traveling along the runic path beneath and around Harry's body. They coursed around and around in spiral pattern, until they finally reach Tonks. Like her mother before her, the metamorph floated over the runes to Harry's hovering form. Yet, unlike her mother, Tonks didn't immediately perform her ceremonial role. The young woman lightly caressed Harry's cheek before gently pressing the needle into the middle of Harry's chest. Hermione was distantly surprised that she felt no jealousy for the other woman's act of affection. If anything, she felt more connected to Tonks. There seemed to be something in common that they shared now, something that they hadn't had prior to this moment.

Harry, for his part, showed absolutely no discomfort from the act of having a meter long needle shoved through his sternum. If anything, he looked even more at peace than before. Hermione watched the heart's blood pool along his chest, tracing the thousands of tiny runes covering his body, until it finally cascaded onto yet another rune cluster just below his feet. The third explosion of magic had visible results on those not partaking in the ceremony. Hermione had a good view of a number of goblins observing the ritual across the room. When the wave of power washed over them, they were blasted from their feet.

Strangely, the young witch didn't feel the uncomfortable pressure that she'd been expecting. The current of power did just the opposite; it seemed to wrap her in a warm, protective blanket, leaving her feeling drowsy and loved. In spite of this heady feeling, Hermione watched the blood rapidly ignite the runes between her and Tonks. She knew her part was coming, and focused on her love for Harry as she had been instructed to. She reviewed their past, dredging up every memory she could, from that first fateful meeting on the train, to their harrowing flight through the Department of Mysteries. She fed all her hopes for the future, all her exhilarating dreams, and every secret yearning that she'd ever had concerning the young man before her into that special well where her magic rested. She felt her body lift from the floor and begin to travel the short distance to her future lover, and without even realizing what she was doing, cast a very ancient cutting spell across Harry's left wrist.

The blood flowed and spilled out onto the last rune cluster, bathing Hermione in a sensory overload of magic. It was orgasmic and all the young witch could do was ride out the pleasure.

Unaware of what was happening outside herself, Hermione would later have the event explained to her in detail. Harry's blood rose from the floor into Andromeda's waiting hands, where she spun it into a silver thread. It was then passed onto her daughter, who wove it into the three dimensional shapes of Harry's ancestors. Nymphadora would then pass the woven personality to Hermione, who cut the thread of blood and sent the magical construct wheeling towards a corner of the chamber, where it would weave itself into a large tapestry of moving and conversing personages.

On and on the ritual went, moving further and further into the past. People gasped in surprise and wonder with each new generation, but Hermione didn't acknowledge them. Her world was Harry's magic, and beside her in that warm ocean of power were Andromeda and Nymphadora. Three women lost in a sea of eldritch energy, uncaring of the world around them. They would be changed by this event; of that there was no doubt. How those changes would manifest in the future was still up for grabs.

One thing would never change though, and that was the love she felt Harry returning to her with each thread she cut. She was giving him something he'd always yearned for, but could never express. She was giving him a connection to his past; to his family.

Hermione Granger felt his happiness, and as the ritual continued to unfold, silent tears of joy flowed down her cheeks. She was not alone.

**************

The slaughter of the early morning shoppers and shopkeepers of Diagon Alley was swift, efficient, and foremost brutal. The dead almost immediately joined the Dark Lord's ranks, bolstering the already formidable assault force that was already laying siege to the goblin bank.

Uhurlgro Wornknuckle's pointy toothed smile was anything but attractive to Bomani's sensibilities. The bloodlust cresting in the goblin's eyes at the booming gong of a giant's club against the main portals of the bank was not what he expected from the normally professional head of security.

"We respect the old pacts, Azkabanni." Uhurlgro growled. "But allow me to make it very clear that Gringotts and, by virtue of the institution, the Goblin nation refuses any and all aid until the enemy crosses the great seal itself. Do we have an accord?"

"Aye, Master Wornknuckle." Bomani nodded reluctantly. "We of Azkaban acknowledge the old pacts and will respect your desires."

Uhurlgro grinned and ran a large knuckled finger over the blade of his rather intimidating battleaxe. The vicious little creature was armed to the teeth, literally. He had more blades, spikes, and armored steel adorning his body than a human knight. Even his teeth were capped with serrated, shark-like coverings. Bomani never understood the Glory of Blood, but he respected the goblins for their prowess in battle all the same. There was an absolute certainty that many goblins, outnumbered as they were, would die here today. It was also a certainty that they would kill just as many, if not more, of their enemies before they allowed the Death Eaters to enter the bank itself.

He looked back to the small platoon he'd brought with him from Azkaban and nodded at their readiness. His command staff had already deployed the men, and the ward experts were already busy working with their goblin counter parts in laying their nasty surprises along the entry way. Bomani sighed and began preparing himself for the charnel house that was approaching. He was a veteran of over a hundred battles, but the duty never got any lighter. He was Azkabanni though, and that meant he was the blade that stood between evil and the innocent. To his sensibilities, he should have already been outside saving the poor people of Diagon Alley; but his greater duty lay with the Lord Regent, and if what Rebecca had hinted at was true, the new Lord of Azkaban.

It might not be what he wanted, but Bomani knew his oath and duty. He would kill, maim, and destroy all that threatened Azkaban. That included delusional Dark Lords and the idiots that followed them. He sighed and began a quick equipment check. It was going to be a very long day.

**************

Diagon Alley

The creature had once been a man, but his ambitions changed him. He broke his soul and stuffed them into petty little trinkets because he was afraid of death. That fear seeped into every aspect of his life, and even now could be found taunting the Great Equalizer. Voldemort's Death Eaters stormed the streets of Diagon Alley, and his minions pressed their attack against the very doors of Gringotts. The energy of battle and the synergy of spell castings masked any sign of the young man that had vanquished him sixteen years ago. Some small part of his mind registered the presence, but in light of the adrenaline rush and the press of bloodletting, the Dark Lord Voldemort glossed over the information in favor of brutally killing yet another insignificant.

His forces were being harried by the goblins from their murder holes and baracades within the fortress bank. He watched in anger as yet another giant's head was blown to tiny chunks. His rage peaked as two of the wyvern and ten of his wizards were mulched by an armored goblin war machine that rolled out of one side street and into another without stopping. The wights and hags were easily being destroyed by specially blessed crossbow bolts and other forms of projectile weapons.

Yet, in spite of these successes, the goblins were still outnumbered three to one. The battle was bloody but all too soon, the Death Eaters began to overwhelm the defenders – just as Voldemort predicted. The wards on the doors finally failed against the press of Inferi and the invaders poured into the structure with a roar of victory. Voldemort paused along with his Inner Circle, to raise more of the undead fodder, allowing the over zealous minions to trigger any and all the magical traps lying in wait.

Voldemort knew from experience just how crafty these sub-human vermin could be. It was best to allow them the opportunity to cut their teeth on the wave of incompetents first, before gracing them with his magnificence. It was a small mercy, but one that would build hope in the defenders. Voldemort loved crushing the hopes of his prey, just as Nagini crushed the life from her dinners.

It was a moment to be savored.

**************

The invaders pressed forward slowly, pushing the goblin defenders back step by agonizing step until they finally crossed the great seal. Bomani signaled his men, joining the Azkabanni to the fray in a blaze of hot lead and lethal spell fire from their hidden positions on the flanks of the invaders.

Two rocket propelled grenades made short work of the remaining giants, who in turn killed the lone remaining wyvern. Voldemort rallied his forces, regrouping them into a broader wedge in order to shore up his thinning lines, before returning fire on the new attackers.

"Can we bring up a dragon from the tunnels?" Bomani called out to Uhurlgro over the din of weapons fire. The goblin shook his head vigorously.

"They are better off where they are. If this is simply a diversion, then we have a surprise waiting for whoever decided to brave the tunnels."

Bomani nodded, accepting the logic for the moment. He turned to his command staff and gave the order to open fire with the secondary batteries. Wicked battle spells literally seared the air and flashed brilliantly as they made contact with the front lines of the enemy, leaving the bodies of Inferi, wizard, and dark creature alike nothing more than a fine bloody mist.

For all his strength, Bomani could see the panic start to settle into Voldemort's eyes. The Dark Lord pushed through his terrified ranks flogging them with spells to drive them forward. The technique, while brutal was effective, and the surge pressed down on the surprised defenders. The rout began as he forced the trolls to charge into a clump of regrouping goblins. The disciplined soldiers of Azkaban met the charge with two nests of fifty caliber machine guns shredding the trolls to little more than blood and bone fragments. The wizards using the trolls as convenient cover came to regret their choice as they were chewed to bits.

Voldemort and his Inner Circle scrambled to get shields in place, saving only a quarter of their line. Enraged the Dark Lord lashed out with heavy spell fire, lancing gunner and gun alike. Bomani was impressed with the speed, power, and sheer ruthlessness backing the magic. His men were gone even before they understood their lives were endangered. More spells rained down on the lines of the defenders, continually pushing them back further and further, until they were at the mouths of the tunnels. Voldemort roared exultantly, at his expected victory and continued his attempts to break the Azkabanni line with his powerful magic.

**************

Rebecca shivered as the power of her Lord's magic pressed her to her knees. It was like bearing the weight of a dozen mountains and she could scarcely breathe. The ritual was beyond a success in her mind. She'd counted over ten different ways that Harry Potter-Black was tied to the throne of Azkaban. Ten lines, when they were only hoping for one! There could be no doubt and the Council of Nine would have no way to challenge his legitimacy, when her Lord claimed his throne. Even under the immense pressure of his magic, the burden of her fears was lifted. For the first time in years she felt true hope swell in her heart, not just for herself, but for all the people of Azkaban.

What stunned her, and those knowledgeable few throughout the room, more than anything was that her Lord's magic seemed to have hijacked the ritual. Gillian had plotted the runes to only go as far back as the last Lord of Azkaban, to ensure Lord Potter's legitimacy. The fact that it was already well beyond that point was making Rebecca nervous. She could already feel her lord's magic reaching out for more power, obviously matching the young king's intent and desire to know his family.

She watched in awe as tendrils of magic, a foot in diameter, snaked out from her lord's person and attached itself to each person within the room. The exceptions were the Ladies Tonks and Lady Granger. When even that seemed insufficient, more threads seemed to shoot out and bury themselves in the walls of the chamber. And as her lord's blood flowed, Rebecca watched as the faces of dead kings continued to join the massive tapestry. Names and faces that she knew well from her studies soon gave way to less familiar faces until, at last, an age old myth was confirmed.

The lords of Azkaban gave way to the kings of Avalon, who in turn gave way to the ancient emperors of Atlantis herself! Rebecca was giddy at the prospect. Who could ever challenge her lord now? His lineage was unimpeachable! None were more worthy to rule than Harry James Potter-Black!

The magic continued its work for some time, until at last it climaxed in a swelling wave of power that literally pressed the faces of everyone not involved directly in the ceremony to the floor. From her prone position, Rebecca saw her new master rise triumphantly, shrouded in a corona of bright silver light. His eyes glowed green amidst the glare, giving him a godly presence. Rebecca shivered in awe and fear at the sight and watched as his wounds closed. The blood stopped flowing immediately, causing the runes beneath him to die out. When he opened his mouth, his voice echoed with the weight of ages.

"**I am Chosen, by magic and by blood. Let all who challenge me, beware!"**

Rebecca felt the pressure of his magic begin to recede, only to suddenly flat-line completely with the reverberating crash of thunder. He fell from the air limply, and Rebecca screamed even as she forced her weak body to move. To her relief Callisto was already there, shielding his body from harm with her own. Never in her life, had Rebecca been so grateful for her twin. She watched as Gillian and Healer Webber were already checking on her lord's status. The knot in her heart eased as both shook their heads and smiled stupidly.

Her halting steps took her to Lady Granger first, and a quick diagnostic charm revealed extreme exhaustion rather than any permanent damage. Gillian and Healer Webber turned their attention to the Ladies Tonks under the watchful, if worried, eyes of Lord Tonks. Seeing that they were in good hands, Rebecca turned her attention back to her lord and master.

Cradled in the protective arms of her twin, the Lore-Keeper couldn't help but envy Callisto. Even so, the new Lord of Azkaban looked so frail. Noting a shiver travel up and down his frame, Rebecca summoned a blanket with the last dregs of her energy and covered the young king and her sister in order to preserve body heat. She noted the halting, yet familiar, steps of her grandfather as he made his way to her side. She looked from the pair at her feet, to the tapestry behind them, back to the white-haired man at her side. Augustine Antolios simply sighed as he stared at the young man wrapped in his granddaughter's arms.

"A life time of searching at an end." He whispered tiredly.

Rebecca nodded. The Lord Regent sighed again and rested a heavy hand on Rebecca's shoulder.

"Now comes the hard part, granddaughter."

"Hard part, Grandfather?"

The man simply nodded with a worn grin.

"Oh, yes, my dear. Finding our lord will seem like child's play, when compared to what comes next."

"And what comes next, Grandfather?"

"Why, rebuilding a kingdom of course." He chuckled.

There was something hidden in his eyes that made Rebecca wonder just _which_ kingdom he was referring to. Her eyes drifted unerringly back to the tapestry, glossing over the names and faces of the Azkabanni kings in favor of settling on the faces of those ancient emperors of Atlantis. She frowned thoughtfully at the subtly implied ideal.

Rebuilding a kingdom indeed.

**************

Voldemort screamed and suddenly fell to the floor and writhed in agony. His Inner Circle went to him immediately and when Augustus Rookwood touched him, the Death Eater exploded in a cloud of blood and magic that was immediately absorbed into the body of the Dark Lord. The others watched as their master's body stopped convulsing and his screaming ceased.

The other witches and wizards stood stock still, quite stunned, looking dumbly at their wands as their magic fled and failed them. For but an instant, both sides of the battle stared at one another, uncertain of what had just happened. Bomani couldn't get a bead on Voldemort, so he settled for the next best target of opportunity; Alecto Carrow. One shot, one kill. It seemed to be the signal for the goblins, for they roared and the Azkabanni opened fire with their muggle weapons again.

The storm of bullets was no longer deflected by powerful shields, and the Death Eaters felt the bite of each and every one. A fountain of blood erupted from Voldemort's shoulder, abdomen, and leg, forcing those carrying him to drop him to the floor of the entry hall. One of the unmasked men, Rodolphus LeStrange by the look of him, rushed forward to his fallen master and began dragging him from the field. Seeing and following the man's example, the others rallied to cover their master's retreat.

The surge was met by a wall of blades as the goblins met the charge head on. The Death Eaters, wounded and bloody as they were from the Azkabanni, still fought like cornered boars. They knew they were routed, and felt the press of the slaughter that the goblins and their allies were bring down upon them. For every one of their foes that fell, three of their own littered the ground. Haste was the order of the moment, and the option of collecting their dead and wounded was not even considered.

Bomani took advantage of the scramble to leap onto one of the high counters of a teller's booth and carefully took aim with his trusted HK-M617. The specially crafted rifle was light-years ahead of the market, and considering that the company that produced the weapon was primarily owned and run by Azkaban, the soldier had all the faith in the world that it wouldn't fail him. Bomani tracked the scrambling, chaotic movement of his target with patience until he finally had a perfect shot of Riddle's head lined up.

There was no hesitation when he pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew, and a shower of brain matter painted the white marble of Gringotts' entry way. Unfortunately, it was not the brain matter of Lord Voldemort. Bomani cursed as the body of Rodolphus LeStrange fell over the dark wizard, shielding him.

The Azkabanni soldier took aim again, intent on putting a bullet through the dead man's body and into where he judged Riddle's head to be. He squeezed the trigger, and cursed again as another body took the killing shot meant for the serpent. His clip spent, Bomani rushed to reload, noting even as the clip slid home that his quarry was going to escape. In the seconds that it took to chamber another round and reacquire his target a wall of black robed flesh was already in place.

The Azkabanni commander was impressed at the loyalty Voldemort inspired in his followers. But it was still quite disheartening to watch a blonde haired Death Eater finally tug Riddle from beneath the body of his comrade and out into the safety of the daylight. He fired off one last shot and was pleased to note that the blonde's shoulder exploded, flooding the air with a fine pink cloud of blood.

To be so close to victory and have it stolen from you! Bomani growled angrily and stomped his way through the bodies of wounded and dead. The living and whole parted before him like a school of fish evading a shark. His only consolation was in the fact that every bastard hit with their runic ordinance was going to have a devil of a time healing their wounds. The flesh eating curses etched in the slugs and the mummy rot in the hollowed rounds would take weeks to treat even with a facility as well stocked and manned as Saint Mungo's. Voldemort might have survived the battle, but the dark lord was certainly not whole. It seemed vain to hope for the bastard's death, but it was a fact that his forces had been dealt a severe blow. And if he had his way, more pain and loss would soon follow today's rout.

He'd seen one very familiar, maskless Death Eater fall at the end of the skirmish. If she survived the battle, he was going to make certain that she gave up her master's secrets to him. There was not going to be a repeat of today's failure. The next time he left the field of battle, Bomani was going make certain that Riddle's pasty white head was mounted on a silver pike for his Lord.

**************

Harry was lost in a hurricane of images and sounds. The dream screamed through his mind's eye, howling and spinning in a cacophony of information overload. He was re-living his life, and quite possibly the lives of hundreds of others as well, with every breath he took. The process played itself out again and again, never slowing and never pausing.

It was a confusing if not completely hellish experience for him to say the least.

He caught glimpses of some very familiar imagery as things played out. He saw bits and pieces of his time at Hogwarts, and caught snippets of conversations he'd heard while laying in his cupboard. He saw the handsome, youthful face of Tom Riddle in a mirror staring back at him. He heard the serpentine commands of Parseltongue echoing around him, and knew that he had just set the Basilisk to hunt. He squealed and giggled over just how handsome Frank Longbottom was, on a large four-poster in the girls' dormitory with his friends, played grandmother Evens' baby grand piano, and suffered through another tedious bout of morning sickness on a bright and crisp December morning.

He remembered sneaking through the fourth floor corridor, charming a number of random flagstones to blow a blast of cold wind upward when ever a girl stepped on them. Moony and Padfoot were helping Wormtail setup the camera to catch the glory of skirts and robes flying high. He experienced the terror of his first spell battle as a member of the Order – blood and fire were everywhere, and someone was screaming. Flashes of green light; Marcus and Olivia's dead bodies blasting through the front door followed by Voldemort's familiar laughter! He's here! Have to protect Harry!

He felt himself lazing in a hammock on Uncle Al's island. The morning was already heating up, but there was a cool breeze coming off the sea that felt amazing. He rejoiced as the "Window Wall" charm finally took hold, giving him a wonderful view of Andy, Trixie, and Narcissa changing into their bathing suits. He heard his mother screaming at him and felt the bite of his father's magical lashes…the Dementors must be near.

He was a young man with white-blond hair bathing the wounds of an old woman. He was an old man sitting on a throne, speaking to a man in ancient finery. They wanted a treaty to build another prison to replace the one they had lost. He was a troubled young girl, caught stealing an apple from old man Whiltshire's orchard. He was a man named Ambrosius, greeting his dear friend Salazar...he wanted advice on building a school. He was a man named Godric, lying in the arms of his beloved Rowena and thinking about his little sister Helga's pending wedding to Owene Hufflepuff.

Damn Morgan! She above all others knew that sacrifices _must_ be made! The prophecy is immutable! Camelot _will_ come to pass whether we act or not, surely she can see this!

Keir's blood flowed freely from his head wound. He was near death, but Harry wasn't worried. Sutep and Neferti were already binding his spirit and regenerating the boy's brain matter. Maybe this would teach the little brat not to Cloudboard through a thoroughfare.

He sighed his last breath and felt his spirit lift free of his body. The pain in his breasts was finally gone and he no longer felt like a crone. He was free! Finally free! He could see the light above him and he could hear the phoenix song welcoming him home. Eight women stood before him with open arms, his co-wives were waiting for him just beyond a massive, ornate arch of stone. All that was missing was his beloved Emrys. He prayed that his Husband and King would choose to live a bit longer, for the sake of the children.

He could feel an immense pressure pressing in on his head. He couldn't breath! Bright light! Cold! Pain! Terror! He wailed and pulled himself tight as rough hands lifted him. The joyous face of a woman bearing a crown of silver flames looked down on him in wonder. She cooed and soothed him with a haunting melody, and her almond shaped eyes twinkled with stars. Since she was ignoring his screams, he reached for one of her pointed ears, but only managed to grab a handful of pale blue hair in his tiny fist. Maybe if he gave it a good tug she would hold him close and drive the panic and disorientation away. He felt the exotic woman's presence start to fade, slipping away like fog in a stiff wind. He lurched, trying to cling to her comforting spirit, but couldn't hold onto it. He began to fall into the Void…and he knew that the blackness reached back into Eternity.

Harry's eyes flew open in alarm and he fought to sit up. Something was pinning his arms to his sides and had his legs trapped! There was a weight against his stomach and chest too! Not something! Hands! Arms!

He kept screaming and thrashed against his captors, searching for the leverage he needed to free himself. He didn't know how long he fought, but eventually his strength betrayed him and he fell limp against something soft and warm. Someone was whispering to him, soothing him…telling him it was okay. He wanted to look, to see where he was, but it was too bright. Even with them closed, the light made his eyes burn. He panted and tried to suppress his wildly beating heart in order to hear the voice better.

"…safe milord. You may rest easy. We will not hurt you."

It was a woman's voice speaking accented English. She had a smooth sound to her; rich and sultry smooth…like melted chocolate. It made him feel warm and secure. Harry relaxed even more and he felt the pressure on his arms and legs ease. As his mind began to wrap around the smaller details, he could feel a strong heartbeat against his back and warm hands caressing his naked sweaty chest. The soft hands moved up and began to thread through his damp hair while the woman continued to whisper soothingly in his ear.

"Where…?" He croaked. Harry wanted to laugh. He sounded like Trevor. No. Neville's toad sounded much better.

"Safe. An unplottable island in the Mediterranean, south and east of Karpathos and Rhodes." Someone…another familiar female voice…pressed a straw to his lips and he sucked greedily. His throat was so dry that it felt like broken glass shards had been stuffed down it. He drank his fill and relaxed again.

"Can't 'member. Wha' happened?" He tried to remember, but everything was a jumble. The migraine and sharp body pain weren't helping much either.

"You partook in a heritage ritual. The rite woke the Blood of Avalon within you, your Majesty." A new male voice said worriedly. Harry couldn't place a face, but he knew he'd heard the voice recently. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurts. Everywhere." He sighed as a cool washcloth was draped over his forehead and eyes and a set of soft fingers began caressing his cheek. He smiled weakly at the comfort of the touch. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome, my Lord." The woman's voice whispered into his ear. Her breath was deliciously warm, but it still sent chills down his spine. "How can I ease your pain?"

"Head aches. Joints hurt."

Normally Harry would have thought himself pathetic for being such a baby, but he felt as if the Weasley twins and the Beaters from all of the other Houses had worked him over…double time. His inner wuss rejoiced when the fingers moved and began to gently massage his temples. Other hands began kneading his feet and rubbing his legs and shoulders. The lights in the room dimmed to a tolerable level, allowing Harry to finally open his eyes. What he saw was both surreal and disturbing…but in a surprisingly and decidedly good way.

He was laid out on a humongous bed (king sized at least) stripped bare, and surrounded by five beautiful women – two on each side of him and one at his back. If he weren't so bloody sore and tired, he would have been embarrassed…perhaps even aroused. As it was, he was barely able to think straight, so he did the only thing that came to mind.

He smiled some more and thanked the women for taking care of him.

"How long have I been out?" He whispered.

"Approximately five days, Majesty." The man at the foot of the bed moved a bit closer. He was little more than a tall blob at the moment.

Five days! Five days was bad.

Wait a minute.

"What did you just call me?" Harry's eyes shot to the large blur making his head swim.

"I referred to you by the title of 'majesty' my Lord."

"Why would you do that?" Harry's head might have been throbbing, but even so he knew that this wasn't par for course.

"It is a term that accurately reflects your hereditary station. I use this title as a means to show you my allegiance and honor your status as my sovereign king."

Harry Potter had experienced a number of wondrously odd and dreadful things in the last five years, but this…this left him speechless. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the concept of being a king.

This had to be a joke.

Yeah. A joke.

Fred and George must have been setting this up for his birthday – something to take his mind off of Sirius. It wasn't their normal fare, but they must have gotten Remus involved in the prank as kind of a merry tribute to Padfoot. And, since it was a joke, there was only one thing he could really do.

He laughed.

Sure it hurt like hell, but he laughed all the same. It was a magnificent prank, one that Sirius would have rejoiced over. The beautiful women, the stuffy major domo, and the island…it was all a setup to humble him – something to remind him not to take himself too seriously.

Seriously!

Harry snorted and laughed until he cried. It was such a liberating feeling. It was a cathartic moment of clarity that reminded Harry of the example Sirius set – Carpe Diem. Seize the day. By the time Harry stopped laughing, he found himself curled in a fetal ball weeping for the man he'd begun to love as a father.

Soothing hands caressed his back, massaging away the pain. The woman who was caressing his back began to hum to him, and for the moment Harry felt at peace. It wasn't until he realized that his face was pillowed against her chest and that she was practically naked that Harry came back to his senses. He blushed almost purple and frantically tried to push his exhausted body off of her. The woman's caramel color skin was a bit darker in the low light of the room, but that only made her all the more attractive and Harry could already feel himself starting to respond to her. That just made everything worse.

He was going to bloody well kill Fred and George for this one.

"Please your Majesty, you must rest. You are not in a position to tax yourself physically or magically right now. If you push yourself any further, you risk damaging your body."

Harry had to hand it to the man. He was a consummate actor. The woman wasn't a slouch either. She was doing everything in her power to keep him in place without being over bearing. Her touch was firm but gentle, and she touched him in just the right manner and places to almost relax him completely.

"If I don't push myself further, then Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall are going to damage my body!" Harry protested. "Let's not even think about what Ginny and Hermione would do to me!"

"My Lord, I know that you are concerned, but please relax. Healer Webber will be here soon to look you over."

"Look, whatever your name is…"

"I am Augustine Antolios, the Lord Regent of Azkaban. I dare say that we have been over this before."

"We have?" Harry started searching his memory, pushing aside the thick haze that continued to addle his thoughts. He remembered Vernon…the hospital…Gillian and Healer Webber…Rebecca and Callisto...the ritual.

Oh, Merlin! What had he gotten himself into now?

Harry sighed and relented to the gentle tugging of the woman at his back. He was too exhausted to fight her anymore any way. Maybe if he thought about Snape in a bikini, it would deal with his growing problem. He relaxed against her chest and closed his eyes, trying not to think about where his head was nestled.

Snape in a bikini... Snape in a bikini… Snape in a bikini…Snape….

Harry shivered. Some things were just not right. To hell with the erection! He'd rather suffer embarrassment than have that image stuck in his head all day.

"So, Mr. Antolios, I take it things went well with the Heritage Ritual?"

The man at the foot of the bed sat down and smiled at Harry with an expression that was equal parts amusement and decorum.

"Beyond our wildest dreams, Your Majesty."

"This has got to be some sort of sick joke. Are you sure the Weasley twins didn't hire you to play me?"

The man simply laughed and shook his head.

"I am afraid Your Majesty, that I have not been hired by any Weasleys, nor is this a joke of any kind. You are the true heir of Sirius Black."

"Damn." Harry shook his head. Why couldn't life ever get simpler? Wasn't Voldemort enough?

"Humor me, if you please. At least until Healer Webber arrives." The man held his hand palm up, requesting Harry to listen.

Harry motioned for him go ahead. He would listen; after all, there wasn't much else he could do at the moment. He just wished that the situation wasn't so bloody embarrassing! He was too tired to brush the woman holding him off as she ran her fingers through his hair, so he relaxed into her embrace and waited patiently.

"There is a secondary matter to Lord Black's estate, beyond the main inheritance that I would like to discuss with you." Harry urged him on. "Before I continue may I ask what, if anything, do you know about the Azkabanni people?"

"Up until now, I didn't know that there was an Azkabanni people. I had always assumed that Azkaban was a barren rock that housed a prison and a bunch of Dementors."

"And that is what the British Ministry of Magic would lead you to believe." Augustine sighed sadly. "The prison of Azkaban is on just such an island. However, the People of Azkaban have a rich and noble history, dating back to the days of the Atlantean Empire. As you can guess, that history has been under attack for a very long time. For over eight hundred years to be exact. We, the Azkabanni people, have been scattered and in hiding, without a leader to guide and protect us."

He looked up at Harry to make sure that his explanation wasn't lost on his audience. The young wizard had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going, and yet again he felt the need to curse something.

"The last Archmagus of Azkaban was assassinated, and his successors were subsequently driven into hiding or murdered by the invading government that seized control of the main islands north of what is today Scotland. Over the course of the intervening years, the Azkabanni people have looked forward to the return of the Archmagus, endeavoring to discover the heir of this lost bloodline. We have searched through the genealogies of thousands of families, looking for the true heir to the throne of Azkaban and, after eight very long centuries, we thought we had finally found him."

Augustine paused dramatically, watching Harry intently before continuing.

"The man in question was a member of the Peerage here in England, but due to circumstances outside of our control, we could not invest him with his birthright."

"Why was that?" Harry asked.

"The man in question was unjustly imprisoned by the English Government without a trial or sufficient evidence to establish his guilt." Harry stiffened and his face became stony. "You cannot imagine how difficult it was, knowing that the heir to the throne was languishing in a prison less than one hundred miles from the capital, yet being unable to do anything about it."

Antolios looked positively sickened at the memory.

"I petitioned for a proper trial and subsequently his eventual release through all the political channels available to me at the time, both international and local, but all of my requests were ignored or bogged down in the inane rhetoric common to all bureaucracies."

"So, this man is in jail then?" Harry ventured. He hoped that this wasn't going where he thought it was.

"No. He's dead." Antolios' expression was hard, almost angry. "I tried to arrange my own discrete rescue, but the man managed to make good his own escape. We tried tracking him, and for a time we were successful. He led us to Surry, Little Winging in point of fact. But, the man gave us the slip before we could invest him with his crown. He was very good at hiding. His death came as a great blow to us."

Augustine smiled.

"This is a nice history lesson, but what does this have to do with me?" Harry demanded. It was obvious that he knew where the man was taking the discussion, but he didn't want to admit it.

"I would think that fairly obvious, Your Majesty. I am here to find the heir to the throne of my people."

"But you said that the heir died." Harry countered doggedly. His blood seemed to have turned to ice water.

"Yes, but Sirius Black did name a primary beneficiary to all of his estates and titles before he died. And with the blood adoption you are, for all intents and purposes, his son as far as magic is concerned."

Harry flinched again and felt as if he were going to be ill. It was one thing to figure it out in your head, but another entirely to hear someone say it out loud. He had a vain hope that he was wrong, but there was no denying what Augustine was implying now. Damn it! This was the absolute last thing that he needed right now.

"Allow me to assure you, milord, we are not working for any other party beyond the scattered peoples of Azkaban. Even the Council of Nine, the steward government of Azkaban does not know that we have been searching for you." Agustine paused and dismissed all of the women except the one Harry was resting against. "The Blood Adoption has made you the last true male heir of the Black family. Thus, you are the Lord-Baron Harry James Potter-Black, the sole and binding beneficiary to the late Baron Sirius Orion Black, Archmagus and Sovereign King of Azkaban, its people, and all of its holdings. You and you alone are the rightful heir to the Throne of Azkaban, and as such are my ruler."

"This can't be happening." Harry closed his eyes tiredly and sighed. "This has got to be some sort of perverted nightmare."

The woman holding Harry pinched his arm, causing him to squawk in protest.

"What was that for?" He hissed craning his head to look over his shoulder. Callisto smiled back.

"To prove that you weren't dreaming." She smiled cheekily.

"Damn it!" Harry protested hotly. "First, it's bloody Voldemort and his merry band of wankers, and now this! Is it too much to ask to live a bloody normal life for a change? I just want to be like everyone else. I don't want to be a king or bloody savior!"

Callisto hugged him close and began running her fingers through his hair again. It took some time, but Harry was able to relax enough for Augustine to continue.

"I can understand your feelings, milord. However, it is with deep regret that I must inform you that you are stuck with the title." Augustine smiled sympathetically. At the sudden hostile glower on Harry's face, the Lord Regent held up his hand to forestall the building protests. "You are Lord Black's successor. The Blood of Avalon has been awakened within you. The second, more than the first, makes you the Heir Apparent, along with all the myriad honors, responsibilities, and privileges that accompany the station. The title will remain yours until the day of your death, to do with as you please. Accept it, abdicate, write it on some paper and use it to wipe your bum…in the end it is your choice, no one else's. Although it is my hope that you would honor it for the sake of our people."

Harry snorted at the thought of using his sudden royal status as toilet paper.

"What happens if I abdicate?" Harry asked.

Augustine shrugged.

"The title is passed on to the next suitable male heir in the Black lineage of significant magical aptitude – one Draco Malfoy if I remember correctly."

"Malfoy?" The name alone disgusted Harry – something Augustine, from his extensive studies of the boy in question, could fully empathize with.

"Malfoy." He agreed. Augustine leaned forward and gave Harry a conspiratorial wink. "Between you and me, I would rather not have the little twit in charge of the lives of the Azkabanni people or the larger political holdings that are rightfully ours. We have enough troubles without his type lording over us."

"I don't have much of a choice in all of this do I?" Harry sighed.

"Of course you do." Callisto countered, earning a glare from Augustine. "I may not be as intelligent as Rebecca, but even I know that the agency to choose is a fundamental constant of the Universe. None may take it from you. They may influence it, but in the end it is you who make the choice. You, and you alone, are responsible for the choices you make and the consequences of those choices."

"Callisto is correct, my Lord. You could tell us to 'Bugger off!' here and now, and we will return you to your pathetic imprisonment at the hands of your relatives and the mighty Albus Dumbledore who, as I understand it, forced you all together in the first place. You may continue to live your life as you have – a pawn and spell target of the Powers-That-Be, and continue to blindly stumble your way to the inevitable confrontation with Voldemort that seems to loom before you."

"Damned if I do. Damned if I don't." Harry shook his head. "What will you do?"

"We will return to our sad little islands of various Ministry oppressed slaves and vile dark wizards without looking back." The Lord Regent smiled.

"Ministry oppressed slaves?" Harry grinned. "You're laying it on a bit think, aren't you?"

To his surprise, the Lord Regent shook his head sadly.

"How I wish I were. If you knew half of the problems the Azkabanni people have suffered over the years at the hands of the British Ministry of Magic and the rest of their contemporaries within the International Confederation of Wizards…well, I would dare say it would almost make Voldemort look like a saint." Augustine's voice was filled with contempt.

"Can you give me an example?" Harry asked the man.

"My Lord, the sad truth is that even suggesting such a thing is considered treason to the Crown by the British Ministry. If and when you accept your throne, I will be more than happy to spend the next few weeks informing you of all the sordid details of the criminal occupation of Azkaban and its other holdings. But for now, I can tell you up front that the Dementors have no part in Azkabanni tradition. They are an abomination forced upon Azkaban by the British government."

Harry sat up with great effort, and stared at his hands for a long time. Callisto, massaged his back lightly in order to help support his trembling body. As pleasant as having a half naked young woman rubbing her hands all over your back was, Harry was certainly feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the situation. Callisto didn't seem to notice or care what effect she was having on him, so Harry did his best to block her out. It was bad enough to be pressured by a body full of teenage hormones, but luckily he had another dilemma to focus on. He was visibly fighting a war of conscience, and more than once found himself glowering at Augustine for bringing a new complication into his already messed up life.

In the end he sighed in resignation. Hermione was right. His saving-people-thing was going to get him killed some day.

"If I do this, will it be on my terms – or will I be somebody's puppet?"

Augustine fixed Harry with a stoic expression.

"That depends entirely on you. Do you want to be a puppet, or would you rather judiciously guide the destiny of Azkaban? Would you rather rely on someone else to do it for you, or would you like to be in charge of your own destiny?" He smiled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I won't lie to you my Lord. The majority of those currently in power, bow and scrape to the various governments that now control the interests of the Azkabanni people.

"Many are power mongers, especially those that work with the British Ministry here in the north. In order to keep themselves elevated above the masses and living lives of privilege, they serve themselves first and everyone else second. Nothing would please them more than to pull the strings of a puppet king. In fact, I can almost guarantee that they will do everything in their power and influence to force you into that very same, abhorrent role the moment they learn of you."

"They can try." Harry growled. Callisto raised an eyebrow and smiled at Augustine.

"So does this mean that you are accepting your title? I thought for certain I would have had to bribe you with your own Quidditch team." Augustine smiled openly.

"Are you trying to pull my strings?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I could be testing your resolve, or I could be buttering you up." Augustine settled back and smiled openly. "In the end, it will be your choice on who to trust. Let this be a lesson for you."

"Well, thanks for clearing that up." Harry's voice was laced with heavy sarcasm. After a moment he shrugged and fixed the man with a smirk. "I can't say that I'm not adverse to a little bribery, but I should point out that I do have a reputation to uphold."

"Oh?" The Lord Regent laughed.

"Yeah. Almost everyone sees me as some sort of hero – so, if what you say is true, I can't very well turn my back on the people of Azkaban." He looked at the older man shrewdly. "The question now is: how do I know you're legit?"

Augustine nodded approvingly and stood. He removed his suit jacket exposing his white shirt and bared his arms for Harry's inspection.

"Okay. So your arms are clean. Forgive my paranoia, but that doesn't mean much really." Harry leaned back into Callisto tiredly. "Voldemort's not stupid. Pretty soon he's going to realize that the Dark Mark is a dead giveaway and will start marking people in other places."

The Lord Regent felt that Mad-Eye Moody would have been extremely proud of the young man for demanding a more thorough inspection.

"Shall I strip then?" Augustine asked seriously.

After an uncomfortable moment of embarrassment, Harry nodded. Augustine handed Harry his wand and proceeded to divest himself of his robes. It was terribly awkward but, by the time that Augustine had dressed himself again, Harry was content that he didn't have the mark. It took some time for Callisto to remove herself from behind Harry and to make the messy haired teen comfortable again, but her examination was considerably shorter, due to the fact that she was already mostly disrobed.

"Okay," Harry cleared his throat, trying to dispel his discomfort and ease the blush from his face. "So you don't have the mark. That doesn't really mean all that much in the long run. What can you do to convince me that this isn't an attempt to kidnap me or something?"

Augustine and Callisto coughed lightly to hide their growing smirks.

"What oaths would you have us swear to?" The Lord Regent asked.

"What oaths are you willing to give?" Harry countered with a smirk.

His grin was wiped from his face as Callisto and Augustine moved to kneel on the bed in front of Harry. Facing him, they pressed their foreheads to the silk comforter before him humbly. It was a tight fit, but their voices were a chilling echo of each other as they spoke.

"To the Sovereign King of the People of Azkaban, I give my magic, my life, and my soul. May my body serve him! May my heart revere him! May my death honor him! Should I fail or dishonor his house, may my eternal suffering be exquisite."

To his surprise, an aura of dancing golden light shimmered, not only around the pair kneeling before him, but Harry as well. Something eerie settled in the young man's heart at their proclamation, but there was little he could think of to compare it to. It was both a presence and a…weight, but it also felt very much alive.

"Uhm…" Harry didn't know what else to say. "That'll do?"

The pair rose and Augustine looked very pleased. The young Gryffindor was pointedly surprised to see tears in their eyes as they looked at Harry with something akin to love and adoration.

"The Oath has been given and accepted." Augustine whispered with obvious emotion. "Thank you, my King."

"Uhm…yeah…you're welcome."

Harry absently scratched his head and tried to sort through what had just happened. His world had just been turned on its head…again! For some reason, he felt that Hermione was going to skin him alive for this. He shook his head to clear it and shifted his weight against the pillows.

"So, what now?"

Callisto smiled and slipped back into the bed, repositioning herself behind Harry, causing the Heir of Azkaban to blush bodily. Augustine's mouth twitched with suppressed mirth.

"There are a number of things that need to happen before you can officially claim your throne, your Majesty. The first of which is regaining your strength so that you may attend the final reading of your formal inheritance. High Warden Nabbak has been most anxious to see that you are made aware of your holdings."

"When is that?" Harry asked.

"It has been scheduled for the day after you are declared fit by Healer Webber." Augustine offered.

"Do you have any idea what I should expect?" Harry moaned as Callisto began working on his shoulders again.

"Rebecca is currently working with Gringotts to sort through much of the unnecessary items, but from the fact that you are inheriting not only the Black estate, but the Potter estate and another one as well, I can imagine that you will find yourself gaining a number of personal properties, a sum of wealth, and a few other odds and ends as well."

"Another estate besides the Potter and Black? How is that…?"

"The Heritage Ritual is one that reveals the entirety of you family tree. Sometimes that tree shakes loose more than a few surprises."

Harry nodded.

"Dumbledore won't like that."

"Mr. Dumbledore and the rest of the Magical world believe you to be dead."

"I beg your pardon?" Harry blinked.

"Why do you think Ms. Granger was so emotional prior to the ritual?" Callisto whispered in his ear.

Harry blinked and shrugged.

"I thought someone had told you about the events at the hospital after you had left." Augustine said. The young wizard shook his head. "Well, I can see that we will be giving you a general debrief after all."

The account that followed made Harry beam with satisfaction, as Augustine related the cascade of events that followed him leaving the hospital; from Snape getting his picture plastered all over the muggle media, to the foiled assault on Gringotts and Bomani's wounding of Riddle. It was the silver lining of this large and foreboding cloud he found himself under.

"So what do I do while I wait for Healer Webber?" Harry asked.

Augustine smiled, but it wasn't exactly a friendly smile.

"We will set about instructing you on your heritage, solidifying your understanding of the current political arena, and taking the necessary steps to reclaiming your throne." Augustine began rubbing his neatly trimmed goatee thoughtfully. "We could begin working on a tentative plan for dealing with Voldemort, if you wish, but truthfully I would like to have all of the resources of Azkaban backing you, before delving too deeply into that problem."

Harry nodded slowly but frowned as an uncertain thought welled up in him.

"Does this mean that I won't be returning to Hogwarts?" The idea that he wouldn't be able to see his friends left him feeling slightly panicked.

"That would be certainly up to you." Augustine conceded. "I would counsel against it, mainly due to the obvious dangers associated with the school. Considering your history, I'm sure you would agree that the security measures currently in place leave much to be desired. I ask that you understand that your security from this moment on is paramount. As the heir to the throne you are not only an important symbol for our people, you are our hope for a prosperous future. With this in mind, we are determined to keep you alive, healthy, and happy."

Harry frowned. He wasn't sure that he liked the sound of that.

"I understand your reservations milord, however, I will make you a promise here and now – we will not treat you as Albus Dumbledore has."

Harry's eyebrow rose incredulously.

"Freedom is a very important concept. If you are unable to know and enjoy it, then how can you protect the freedom of our people? Dumbledore feels a need to smother; I on the other hand feel the need to support and empower."

"How so?" Harry was more than a little curious.

"I will not curtail your movements. Instead, I will grant you whatever security you will need to go where you wish and do as you like."

"I don't need babysitters." Harry growled.

"I do not mean to imply that you do, my Lord." Augustine replied. "We however, cherish your life and therefore desire to take every means possible to protect you from the forces that would do you harm. You have no heirs to replace you should you fall, and I will go out on a limb and say that you are not ready to produce one. We do not do this to control your life, but to safeguard it. You are our last and best hope to revitalizing and saving our people, we cannot afford to lose you."

The Lord Regent rose from the foot of the bed and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"I ask that you think of this as a shield spell or a protective charm. We both know that your life is marked by Voldemort and it is our desire to make sure that he does not have a chance to take it from you." The older man sighed. "The Royal Azkabanni Militia is the most feared and secretive fighting force in the world. Simply put, they are the best at what they do, both magically and mundanely. With them, the people can rest assured that their ruler is safe. I promise you, young Lord, that the King's Elite Guard has been trained to protect you without interfering in your daily life. Even now, there are over fifty sentinels that you cannot see watching over us."

"And what about my privacy?" Harry demanded hotly.

"When you are in public, I am afraid, you have no privacy, my Lord." Augustine countered softly. "It is a fact of life that you will soon be even more of a public figure than you have been in the past. As such, your life will come under intense scrutiny – it is one of the prices the crown demands. In places that we do not control, we will have to bring control. I hope you can understand this."

"Great." Harry sighed unhappily. "Are there any other costs that I should know about?"

"I'm certain that there are, my Lord. There is really no way to cram everything that you will be responsible for into this conversation." Augustine chuckled. "However, I want to put your mind at ease concerning the issue of your personal space and privacy. Each member of the elite guard has sworn a number of blood oaths that prevent them from speaking of things they see and hear while guarding you. They will literally die before breaking their oaths of silence. Each is a master occlumens, so you have little to concern yourself in regards to the mind magics. They are trained not to be seen and will not impede your movements unless you are walking into a recognizable danger – such as an ambush."

"What if I want to walk into the ambush?" Harry growled.

"Then I would suggest alerting the guard before hand."

"You mean they would let me if I asked?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Yes. However, I would advise you not to expect the ambush to still be standing once you pass through it." Augustine said with all seriousness.

Harry looked at Augustine with open disbelief, but the man was obviously very serious. Harry grinned and nodded his agreement, but remained ponderously silent for a time.

"I don't like the idea of leaving my friends behind." He admitted. "They're my family and I can't in good conscience leave them to fend for themselves."

Callisto wrapped her arms around Harry's waist. He could almost feel himself steadily getting stronger, the longer she held him.

"You wouldn't need to leave them behind my Lord." Callisto said. "There are many qualified tutors among the Azkabanni, and there is nothing preventing you from inviting your friends to study alongside of you. Ms. Granger and the Tonks family have already made the oaths of citizenship, and are considered your subjects."

"I don't want them as subjects. I want them as friends and family." He protested. Harry sighed and pondered the thought of his friends joining him in Azkaban. The thought of never seeing Snape again was really appealing – bikini or no bikini. The more he thought of his friends the more uncomfortable he felt. They thought he was dead. Well, everyone except the Tonks family and Hermione.

"What are we going to do about the whole 'Harry-Potter-is-dead' thing? And where are Hermione and the Tonks' anyway?"

"Ms. Granger is resting in a room not far from this one. She has not left your side since the ritual ended. Callisto and Rebecca were finally able to convince Ms. Nymphadora to help them in helping the young woman to rest." Augustine walked over to a shadowy corner of the room and collected a high backed chair. "Ms. Tonks and her family are currently in the company of one of your more prominent tutors, learning what they need to know about their new citizenship. As for what to do about your death? Nothing."

"Nothing?" Harry asked incredulously.

"That is correct." Nothing." Augustine smiled. Callisto nodded in agreement.

"It certainly would nip any assassination attempts in the bud." The young woman mumbled, drawing Harry's eyes. He looked at the woman askance, trying to judge if she was joking or not. From the serious expression on her face, she wasn't.

"Callisto is correct, the fewer who know that you are alive, the greater advantage you have over those who stand against you. You will have time to prepare yourself for any and all confrontations that may arise, and once you are safely settled, you can push forward any plans you might have. In fact, it might be in our best interests to hide your identity altogether as we proceed. In this way you will have anonymity, and the preconception that most would have when confronted with Harry Potter, will not affect your plans."

"I'm not sure I understand all of that." Harry sighed. "I can back not being a public figure any more; truthfully, the longer I'm out of the public eye the better. But how would them knowing I'm who I really am affect things?"

"How do people normally receive you?" Augustine asked.

"Mixed really." Harry snorted. "One minute I'm a hero, the next I'm a lying brat with delusions of grandeur."

"That in and of itself is exactly the point, milord. The public already has a vision of who Harry Potter is, but the Lord of Azkaban…he is something entirely new isn't he?"

Harry grinned, finally catching on. He could be just about anyone, act however he pleased (well mostly), and it wouldn't matter. He tuned his focus back to Augustine as the man continued.

"If we are careful about it, we can craft an identity so powerful and intimidating; an identity that would force change just by mere presence alone. The more mystery that surrounds you, the more unsettled your opposition will be. This will take a great deal of thought and preparation."

The Lord Regent politely requested his wand back, which Harry quickly gave him. The look of embarrassment was completely ignored by the older man as he summoned paper and a muggle fountain pen from the desk in the dark corner of the room. The man's grin reminded Harry of the twins, as Augustine transfigured an unused pillow into a lap desk and began scribbling merrily.

"Excitable isn't he?" Harry grinned at Callisto over his shoulder. The woman laughed and nodded her head.

"Grandfather is at his best when he is plotting against the world."

"Grandfather?" Harry asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yes. My father's great grandfather. He has raised Rebecca and I since our parents were killed."

"I'm sorry." He said automatically.

"There is no need. We were very young, and if anyone could understand our loss, it would be you, milord."

"Harry."

"Milord?" Callisto shifted uncomfortably.

"Please call me Harry."

"I couldn't be so informal!" She protested.

"But you can share my bed with me wearing nothing but a silk undershirt and panties?" Harry asked with a mischievous smirk.

"I…I thought you would be more comfortable that way." She bit her lip uncertainly. The fierce predator that he had glimpsed prior to the ritual was no where to be found in her countenance. In fact, Harry was certain he could see tears welling in the corner of her eyes. "If you are not pleased with my presence, milord, I will remove myself."

She started to slide from behind Harry, but he held her arms with all the strength he could muster.

"I'm not displeased with you, or the fact that you are in bed with me." He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. He was pants with girls, if Cho was any indication, and he didn't want to hurt this young woman's feelings. "Quite the opposite in fact. You've helped me deal with everything today by just being here. Thank you."

"There are no thanks necessary, milord." Callisto blushed and bowed her head. "If my body can serve to comfort you, then it is yours."

Had she just…? Harry shook his head lightly and pushed that thought deep into the back of his mind. Callisto slowly removed her arms from around his waist and renewed her play with Harry's hair, much to his pleased embarrassment. She seemed to know just the right spots to hit for maximum effect. He basked in the treatment until his stomach growled. Harry blushed and mumbled a quiet apology. He was rewarded with a light kiss on the cheek before the young woman slipped out from behind him again. She slipped on a silk, navy blue robe and headed for the door. It was hard for him to take his eyes off her lithe form.

"What would you like to eat, Your Majesty?"

Harry frowned thoughtfully, derailing the images his hormones were conjuring in his mind's eye.

"A couple of sandwiches?" He asked tentatively.

"What kind would you prefer?"

"Uhm…I don't really…."

"How about a little bit of everything then?" She asked with a grin. Harry nodded, matching her grin easily. He watched her go and once the door was closed, Harry turned to Augustine.

"Mr. Antolios?" The man immediately stopped writing and gave Harry his undivided attention.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"What's the deal with Callisto?" Harry felt himself flush.

"How do you mean, Sire?" The man folded his hands across the lap table.

"I mean…that is…."

"Why is she hanging out here in her knickers?" Augustine asked with a wry grin. Harry nodded. "Callisto is your Fylax – that is, she is your Prime Sentinel. It is her purpose to care for your physical, mental, and magical health. She is your attendant, your handmaiden, and the head of the king's personal guard."

"Sentinel?" Harry asked. He thought of the beautiful young woman, trying to imagine her being the head of an elite guard. He shook his head. "But, why would she…you know…"

Harry stumbled over the questions, uncertain how to express himself. Augustine's expression lost some of its playfulness and took on a more professional demeanor.

"According to High Warden Nabbak, the adoption ritual awakened and released an immeasurable amount of power. Coupled with that, you drew on the combined magic of Gringotts and Diagon Alley itself in order to complete the ritual." He paused while Harry processed this information. "Do you know the effects of over extending yourself magically?"

Harry nodded.

"Magical exhaustion."

"Precisely. When the Heritage Ritual was finished, you were near exhaustion and catatonic."

"But that doesn't explain why she's almost naked!" Harry hissed.

"The Azkabanni have found that magical regeneration is greatly increased through skin-to-skin contact. Had you woken two hours before you did, you would have been greeted by more than just Callisto in your bed. And I can guarantee that none of them were wearing a stitch of clothing either."

Harry's face and chest became tomato red at the man's wry grin. He began to fidget with the sheets, unconsciously looking at the door Callisto had disappeared through.

"Doesn't she know what that does to a bloke?"

Augustine chuckled and shook his head.

"There is no doubt that she does indeed, my Lord. And I can assure you that, were you to ask her, she would be more than willing to help you with any…needs…that may arise from the situation."

Harry's blush deepened.

"But…but that's not…"

"Right? Moral?" Augustine prompted. "My Lord, it is what she has been raised all her life for. It is what she has trained for since she was old enough to walk. She, her sister, and the rest of their family have remained true to their oaths to the Throne of Azkaban since the Sundering. They have never forgotten, nor forsaken their service to their king, in spite of the fact that there has been no king for over eight hundred years. Her purpose in life is to serve and protect you. It is a duty she accepted and discharges willingly. For all intents and purposes, my Lord, _you_ are her life."

The older man smiled and patted Harry's shoulder.

"I know that it must seem a strange custom to you, but you can rest assured that there will be many more customs that will seem just as outlandish. It is my hope and prayer that one day you will be able to embrace them for yourself. However, until that day comes, I simply ask that you not judge us too harshly because of our oddities."

"I'm sorry." Harry bowed his head.

"For what?" Augustine asked.

"I didn't mean to offend you or Callisto."

"There was no offense offered or taken, Your Majesty. Had the roles been reversed, I'm certain that Callisto would have been a bit more…demonstrative about her discomfort." Harry laughed and nodded. "There is much to learn about your people and their history, milord. It will come in time, and there is no doubt that we will all stumble as we learn about each other."

"Should I apologize to her?" Harry looked back to the door.

"I do not see why you should, but if it will ease your conscience then by all means feel free to."

Harry nodded.

"Put it out of your mind for now, my Lord. You need your rest. And once you've eaten and feel a bit stronger, there are some loose ends that need to be addressed before you retire."

Harry took Augustine's advice and closed his eyes, pondering everything that he'd learned about himself and this rather large and frightening world he'd woken up in.

He had just started to doze when Callisto and three of the women from before returned. Each was carrying a platter stacked with different meats and sliced breads, and the room was immediately filled with the smell of fresh baked breads. In their wake trudged Healer Webber, with a smile that nearly split the man's face.

Harry decided that, amidst the good doctor's gentle prodding and the multitude of the man's innuendos, life might have been turned upside down again, but it was much easier to accept the fact that it might not be a bad thing.

End Chapter 03


	11. Heir of Avalon 04

Heir of Avalon

Chapter four

Notes & Disclaimers: Rebecca and Caer Azkaban belongs to Rorsch (see my favorite authors – The story is Lord of Caer Azkaban), Potter belongs to JK Rowling, everything else is me. If I keep going with this, then I'll probably move it over into its own story, rather than keep it in The Slush File.

Enjoy!

**************

Magical Britain was in an uproar. One had only to look at the papers coming from the country in order to see that most of the population was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. The Daily Prophet upped their circulation and started printing a morning and evening edition in order to meet the demand for news over the last week. The largest headlines were of course the death of Harry Potter and the failed raid on Gringotts. Highlights of the destruction of Diagon Alley and the various other skirmishes throughout the country were also noted, but the largest section in the paper by far was the obituaries.

The old fears from Voldemort's first rise, buried as they were, rose again with a vengeance. The people of magical Britain were completely shell shocked by the pace of events. They were scattered and uncertain, looking for something or someone to stand up for them in this time of darkness. A number of minor heroes stood out according to reports; Albus Dumbledore was the first on everyone's list. Unfortunately, one of the more daring photographers for the Prophet had managed to get a picture of Dumbledore – one that was less than inspiring. The elderly Headmaster was dueling three Death Eaters masterfully, and while that would seem stirring on the surface – the look on the man's aged face was anything but hopeful. Dumbledore looked tired, worn, and above all…lost.

Amelia Bones was the second hero of the day. She and her Aurors had pushed back no less than thirty different raids on muggleborn families and a few other notable high priority targets. The photograph depicting her battle was inspiring, showing that the woman wasn't afraid to get her robes dirty if it meant saving lives. Yet, in spite of the inspiration her image carried, most of the survivors of the first war knew that she was a walking corpse. Voldemort had already marked her for death; and though he hadn't been able to breach the doors of Gringotts, everyone knew that killing a lone witch, even if she had the backing of the whole Ministry, was an easy task for the Dark Lord.

The third hero…or rather heroes, were a group of Hogwarts students that had been visiting Hogsmead for the day to memorialize Harry Potter. Fifteen students of varying ages had not only confronted the attacking force of Death Eaters and minions of the Dark Lord, they tore through the ranks of attackers like a rock through wet tissue paper. The anger and rage that these children held, terrified the rank and file of Voldemort's servants. But by the time they understood their peril, it was too late. The image that the freelance photographer had gotten of that group was both chilling and moving, for at the forefront of this group was one Neville Longbottom – his face bloody and bruised, and robes torn. Positioned on his left arm, proudly displayed, was a large tower shield with a strange crest. The Longbottom coat of arms was prominent, as was the Gryffindor lion; but below them both was a much larger symbol – the Potter family crest. When asked about his experience that day, Neville Longbottom simply stated in a hard, cold, voice that he was living up to Harry's example. He was fighting as Harry had always fought - for those that could not fight for themselves. When confronted about his killing those that had attacked, he simply said that he was returning the favor. Those that had stood with him in defense of Hogsmead unanimously supported his sentiments.

The public seemed to be of mixed feelings about these children warriors. Some believed that they should be held accountable for vigilantism, others felt they should be rewarded for their valor. Most everyone agreed that the times were dark indeed, if the hands of their children were already stained with blood.

It was beneath this dark cloud that Harry ate his breakfast on the sixth day since the Heritage Ritual. The morning had been wonderful up until that point. He'd slept incredibly well, in spite of or because of, Callisto's presence in his bed. He truthfully wasn't certain. The jury was still out on that issue, simply because he couldn't wrap his mind around what Augustine Antolios had said about his granddaughter. The fact that Callisto had echoed his words independently, and without any coercion from her grandfather, only made Harry more uncomfortable.

It was a strange thing to learn that you were someone's entire reason for living. It was one of those customs that was going to take a lot of getting used to, regardless of how much he enjoyed the perks. He wasn't looking forward to Hermione's take on the whole situation. House elves were bad enough; he could only imagine how his dearest friend was going to react to human servants!

Harry sighed and pushed his omlete around his plate. He had suffered through a mind-numbing month of one impossible change after another. June hadn't even ended yet and he'd lost his godfather while trying to save him, gotten pounded by his uncle for the well meaning stupidity of people with little to no common sense, found out that his godfather had set some legal mojo in motion to protect his family's estate from falling into the wrong hands, and because of that legal mojo Harry was now officially the Lord Potter-Black and the Lord of Caer Azkaban because of a heritage ritual. Now he had servants, an elite guard watching his every move, and at some point today they were taking a tour of three Azkabanni communities, in order for Harry to understand the plight of his people better. He was feeling terribly overwhelmed, but at the same time free. "Death" was known to do that for a person.

While contemplating his fate, the news from Britain had come along side a subdued Rebecca. The beautiful young woman carried her ever present book, along with a black leather satchel bearing the Gringott's crest. She protested eating with him when he offered her a seat, but quickly acquiesced when he flat out ordered her to join him. She sat, watching Harry as he ate while he was lost in his thoughts. It wasn't until he was halfway through his omelet that he noticed her empty plate.

"Why aren't you eating?"

"Because it is improper to do so." She replied automatically.

"Have you eaten this morning?"

She looked as if she wanted to lie, but hung her head and answered his question honestly.

"No."

"You need to eat just as much as I do, Becky."

"Becky, sire?" She blinked.

"Yes, Becky." He set his fork aside. "Now stop changing the subject. I know for a fact that I'm not great company at the moment, but I can't be bad enough to spoil your appetite."

Rebecca nearly fell over herself in placating her new king.

"You aren't…I…That is…I mean to say…"

Harry laughed at the wide eyed look of fear in her eyes. She immediately fell to her knees pressing her forehead to the floor before him. It was like a cold bucket of water to Harry's system, cutting off all signs of mirth.

"What are you doing?" He asked nervously.

"I have offended my Lord and await punishment at his hands!" Rebecca's voice was smooth, professional, and backed with enough self-reproach that Harry winced.

"Becky…"

Harry reached out and lightly touched her shoulder causing the young woman to flinch and tremble. She quickly kissed the palm of his hand and steeled herself for the expected blow. He slowly and carefully reached down and lifted her chin with his finger until she was looking him in the eyes. It was surprising to see tears already forming, much like they had in her sister's just the day before. She tried to turn her eyes down to the floor, but Harry bent lower so that she would still see him.

"Rebecca. Look at me." There was no hesitation in her obedience. "I refuse to punish you for something so silly. You are a friend first and anything else second. Do you understand?"

"But, milord!"

Harry pressed his finger firmly against her tremulous lips, silencing her completely.

"Becky, just listen for a moment. Okay?" She nodded quickly. "You, your sister, and I are all going to be stumbling all over each other for the next little while as we try to get used to one another."

Harry sighed and helped her back into her chair.

"To be honest, I'm not really comfortable with the whole servant/master thing." Rebecca opened her mouth, but Harry held up his hand. "I understand it was how you and your sister were raised, and I will not demean that. On the other hand, you have to understand how I was raised."

Harry paused, looking for the right words to express how he felt.

"You were the servant." Rebecca whispered. The blunt acknowledgement of his past made Harry grunt and nod.

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his wild hair. "Do you see the problem?"

"Yes. A little."

"Good, then we have a place to build from." Harry smiled. "I will make you and your sister a deal. In fact, why don't you join us Cal?"

There was a squeak from the shadows behind Harry's right shoulder, and Callisto melted from thin air as she removed the invisibility cloak.

"How did you know I was there?" She asked.

"Practice." Harry grinned and motioned for her to sit next to her sister at the small table. "Please. Sit."

Callisto moved quickly to obey.

"Now then, back to my deal. I propose a compromise. In public, I will be your Lord and Master; completely proper and royal. I will respect the culture and traditions of Azkaban as you will no doubt teach me. However, in private there will be no formalities between us. I will call you Becky and Cal, and you will call me Harry. As time goes on, it is my hope that we can be friends first and everything else second. Do we have a deal?"

He held out his hand, palm up, waiting for the girls to respond.

It never ceased to amaze him that twins seemed to have this ability to have an entire conversation in nothing but a glance. Fred and George did it, and Parvati and Padma did it too. Rebecca and Callisto had come to a silent agreement in three short blinks, before both young women smirked and lifted Harry's palm to their lips. Then they did that weird speaking in unison thing that twins everywhere seem capable of as well.

"As my Lord commands, so shall it be."

Harry shivered; whether it was from the almost sultry look in their eyes or the velvety promise backing their words, he would never really know. He did know that life was going to become very interesting in the days ahead. He was saved from further teasing and embarrassment by the arrival of Hermione, Healer Webber, and the Tonks family.

The rest of the morning was spent discussing the busy plans for the day. But, in spite of the new weight pressing down against him, Harry could honestly say that he'd never been happier than he was at this moment.

**************

"How is he adjusting?" Augustine watched the group thoughtfully as they supported Harry out of the Villa and into the bright summer morning.

"Better than he should be." Webber took a tall glass of ice water from a serving maid and sipped it. "His core shows barely any stress from channeling that much energy. Had it been anyone else, they would have burnt themselves from the inside out within the first ten seconds. At the rate he is healing, I would say he will be back to one hundred percent by tomorrow morning, so your little day trip shouldn't tire him too much; just make certain that he rests for five minutes after every portkey."

"Impressive barely scratches the surface, no?" The Lord Regent snorted.

"If that isn't the understatement of the year." The healer grinned.

"How is Gillian?"

"Frazzled. She's parked herself in front of the Tapestry, trying to comprehend what happened during the ritual."

"I dare say that she will be there for quite some time."

"Undoubtedly."

The pair tracked Harry's progress as Hermione Granger introduced the young Lord of Azkaban to the wonders of the Mediterranean Sea. Even from this distance, they could see the smile on his face.

"I see that Rebecca returned." Webber nodded in the young woman's direction. "What news from the goblins?"

"Gringotts is pressing to present our young Lord with his inheritance." Augustine sighed. "The events of the siege, coupled with our young Lord's timely intervention, have left them feeling anxious."

"Oh? In what way?"

"You know that goblins hate being in debt. The fact that Azkabbani forces turned the tide of the battle has left a sour taste in their mouths. When you add in Lord Potter-Black's miraculous little ploy, well I can see the reasons why they would want to make nice with our lord and then keep him as far away from their warrens as possible."

"Are they afraid of him?"

"Terribly." Augustine laughed. "They can see the writing on the wall already."

"What writing?"

"Our young lord is going to set the whole world on its ear."

"Which means the status quo is out the window." Webber nodded. "The goblins are going to have to restructure themselves to fit into this new world."

"Yes but, for now at least, the Wardens are content to hide their heads in the sand until our Lord's initial storm blows over. They will aid him quietly, but not overtly. That will have to come much later in the game."

"So, when will Young Harry have his sit down with them?"

"Rebecca managed to postpone the final meeting until you give the green light. She pressed home the fact that the stress of all the new obligations would not be in Lord Potter-Black's best interests, which in turn would not be in Gringotts' best interests."

"Are there many obligations owed?" Webber knew that would have been his friend's first priority when looking over the inheritance. Surprises from old family obligations were likely to blind-side the young heir if Augustine wasn't careful.

"There are a few oddities, but most of the surprises were to our Lord's benefit. Gringotts has already started the process of discretely notifying the major players."

"Marriages?" Webber asked worriedly.

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"I should think it obvious, Augustine. Ms. Granger is madly in love with Lord Potter-Black. She is also a muggleborn with little in the way of exposure to the deeper workings of magic. Since she is so important to our young Lord, I would advise you to take some time with her this afternoon and explain things."

Augustine sighed and nodded his head.

"She will make an incredible First, will she not? Her intelligence is simply astounding."

"Intelligence has very little to do with the heart, Augustine, and you know it. She needs time to deal with the idea that the man she loves is going to be magically compelled to marry another woman."

"Women." Augustine corrected automatically.

"All the more reason to pull her aside and lay the cards on the table at the beginning of the game. If you can gain her understanding and support, it will go a long way to softening the blow for Lord Potter-Black."

"Valid points, old friend. We will of course have to rouse Gillian from her stupor long enough to vet everything that has been sent over, and considering Ms. Granger's already expressed interest in Ms. Thornburrow's work, perhaps it would be best if she were to help Gillian go over the inheritance? Maybe while we are on our little day trip?"

"Smashing idea, Old Boy." Webber rubbed his hands together. "This is shaping up to be an exciting ride, isn't it?"

"From what I've seen, our young king has already become one of the most powerful people in the world."

"And to think," Webber grinned. "…he hasn't even taken the throne yet."

"Indeed, old friend. Indeed."

Augustine watched as his granddaughters helped their new lord out of the lounge he'd been resting on, and into the surf. It was childish, but it still brought a smile to the man's face. The matters of adulthood were closing in on them all; he wouldn't dare cheat them of what little remained of their childhood. After all, he would be destroying more than a bit, if not all, of that innocence within just a few hours time.

**************

"So, Rebecca, where exactly are we going?" Harry asked distractedly as one of the villa's tailors finished fitting the dragon hide vest to his torso.

It felt weird at first, but the moment the man's hands left the scaled armor the vest seemed to shrink, conforming to the contours of his body and becoming like a second skin. The same thing had happened with the dragon hide under-armor he was wearing beneath his trousers. It was an odd experience, but one that he refused to dwell on as the tailor helped him into the rest of his robes. He had fought the man tooth and nail at first, embarrassed beyond belief as the man's hands went places that Harry felt shouldn't be touched by another bloke – no matter what his job required him to do. The ensuing, albeit one sided argument left Harry telling the old tailor in no uncertain terms that he could dress himself. The old man nodded and acknowledged his lord's capability to do so, and then ignored Harry as he went right back to what he'd been doing before. It took Becky's arrival to end the argument and allow things to get back on track.

"The Lord Regent has, for security reasons, not informed me. All I know at this time is the intent to visit three different communities, and possibly one other site before returning."

"Anything I should know before we leave?"

"Not so much 'know' as perhaps entertain two requests?" She pressed hopefully. He motioned her to continue with a nod of his head. "The first is fairly straightforward: keep your eyes open and your mind sharp. Not only are there likely dangers that may be hidden, but what you are likely to see will mean more to you than any report that I can adequately give. I will be giving you a commentary on whatever sites we visit, but you will likely see more in one glance than I will be able to report in ten pages of notes."

"That makes sense." Harry nodded. "What is the other request?"

"Like Dominic here, there will be many people that have trained at length to perform a specific task. For you health and safety, I ask that you allow them to do their jobs."

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry wrestled with Dominic for the right to put on his own boots and lost spectacularly at Becky's raised eyebrow. He blushed and grinned sheepishly.

"If we were unfortunate enough to run into trouble – be it an ambush or an attempted assassination, what would your reaction be? Would you follow your guards' directions to evacuate or would you stand and fight?"

Harry opened his mouth, but Rebecca held up her hand.

"Please be honest, my Lord. Not only with me, but with yourself."

He thought for a moment and then sighed.

"Stand and fight."

"And knowing how the Azkabanni feel about you, what do you think the outcome of such a decision would be?"

"They would try and protect me wouldn't they?"

Rebecca nodded once. Harry sighed and thought back to his running battle in the Department of Mysteries.

"And the chances of them getting hurt go up the longer we're in the situation."

"Yes." Rebecca agreed. "It is imperative to understand your role and the roles of those you work with, if you desire to be a successful leader. Your most important role, outside of securing your succession, is to live. If you die without an heir or naming your successor, the people and traditions of Azkaban are dead. The Azkabanni will lose their identity and be absorbed into whatever nation they have been scattered to. In the most positive cases, they will be relegated to being second class citizens; the worst cases will no doubt involve some form of slavery."

"Aren't you exaggerating just a little?"

"You will see, my Lord." Rebecca promised.

It took time to finish the preparations, but eventually Rebecca led him to a large, secure room guarded by four very intimidating men. The curious mix of modern weaponry and obviously magical gear intrigued Harry, but he had no time to dwell on the topic as Rebecca and Callisto gently guided him into the room. It was surprising to note that the room was in fact an auditorium/staging center of some kind. There was a bank of computers and very complex looking technology in one corner and, opposite the "Geek Nest" as Cal had dubbed it, there was a wall of mirrors and Foe Glasses surrounding a very large stone bowl set at waist height. Cal called it the "Voyeur's Nook", which gave Harry a good idea of what it was for. From here it looked like the basin was filled with water, but Harry wasn't one hundred percent certain due to the low, ambient light of the room and the shifting bodies that were hovering over the basin.

"This is the Operations Center of the villa, my Lord." Rebecca motioned with her hand to encompass the room. "While you are in residence, this is where all patrols and missions are organized and run. In a few minutes the Lord Regent will be introducing you to the security team that will be accompanying you; at least those that will remain visible. Among that group will be Callisto and Bomani, along with five others that have been vetted and hand picked to be your guard."

Harry nodded absently as he watched the screens in the "Geek Nest" flicker.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Rebecca asked.

"About a million." Harry grinned. "But I'll make due with a few."

"Please."

"How is it that you have technology and magic working in such close quarters?"

"Some of the computers are heavily shielded, while others are a new and upcoming disciple out of Japan and the United States, called Technomancy. The concept has been around for quite some time, but it is just now beginning to see practical applications. We have funded a number of educations that have had this as a specific focus in order to maintain the pace with the mundane world. Unfortunately, due to the small size and budget allotted by the Council of Nine, we have barely scratched the surface beyond some crude shielding and a few other minor technologies."

Harry stared between the two stations thoughtfully for a long time, even going so far as to inspect them both briefly before turning to his Major Domo. The Geek Nest was, in particular, very interesting. The three men manning the stations seemed to be linked directly into the systems. The woman leading the "Geek Team" was named Kaitlin Mamazza, an Azkabanni woman from Italy. She introduced him to the systems and some of the more interesting concepts that had proven useful. When Harry asked about why the men were wired into the system, Kaitlin noted that they'd culled the idea from a Japanese comic book and using a lengthy magical process to prepare the "Net Jockeys", they made fantasy a reality.

The system had only been operational for a little over six months, but they had worked out the bugs and managed to make it a live system a month ago. There were minor kinks, but nothing life threatening for the Jockeys or the teams that they were monitoring. Harry was beyond impressed and he made certain that Rebecca knew it.

"Once things are settled, let's plan on making this technomancy stuff a major focus for our people. I'd also like to meet the people running the project currently to see where they're taking it, if possible. This is brilliant."

Rebecca dutifully made a note in her tome before gently ushering Harry over to a seat situated in front of a small podium. Once seated, a large projection screen lowered from the ceiling behind the podium. Augustine and Bomani entered soon after, trailed by the rest of the "visible" team. Two mature, and very professional looking, women were flanked by three very intimidating men. They were all wearing tactical gear and carrying an assortment of weapons.

Harry stood to greet them, only to have everyone in the room not monitoring a critical system fall to their knees before him. He frowned. This was another thing that needed to be changed, and quick; not that he thought anyone would listen to him though.

"Stand up please." He hoped he didn't sound whiney or plaintive. Still, they complied quickly enough for formal introductions to be made; leaving Harry to wonder about where they were heading. "So, Augustine, what is this field trip all about?"

"May I be frank with you, your majesty?"

"I would prefer it." Harry nodded.

"Thank you." The older man sighed and motioned for Harry to sit. "Today's excursion will begin here, in the Operations Room. Over the last few weeks my family, and those retainers sponsored by us, has done its best to gather information regarding the most current illegal and illicit exploitation of Azkabanni people; with the sole purpose of shutting down the organizations abusing our people. We have secretly been pursuing this agenda for over a decade now, with varying results."

Augustine moved behind the podium and nodded to Kaitlin who typed something into a laptop, bringing up a geo-political map of the world. It was awash in various colors defining the current status of magical and mundane political borders.

"As we touched on briefly yesterday, the Azkabanni people are scattered. Once, long ago, our people lived in small communities throughout the world. The reason for this, simply put, was due to the fact that we are the best at what we do. Governments bought our wards, because they were the most secure. Wealthy families hired those trained in our military for their security, and we ran the most secure prisons in the world.

"This of course made many jealous of our wealth and prestige, therein many plots were formed to undermine or seize control of Azkaban. And so, when the last Lord of Azkaban was assassinated, the Council of Nine stepped in as stewards. Their stewardships remained true for a generation or two, before falling to greed. Countries bought control over the Azkabanni in their borders, assimilating them and stealing their family secrets outright. Since the fall of our last Lord Azkaban, the Antolios family has been discretely aiding the scattered families as we can. Some we have rescued, some we have not."

Augustine pointed to the screen behind him, as the photos of three people were displayed. The first depicted a man of African decent. His sparse hair was white, contrasting richly with his black skin. The second showed a middle aged blonde woman of proud bearing standing with her daughter and son in front of a sculpture in some European city. They were all smiling and happy. The last photo was of a pair of fraternal twins. They looked to be no older than five or six; all dark hair and gap toothed grins.

"The man is named Nangwaya Akpu-nku. His line is one of the oldest Azkabanni families in Africa. He holds the hereditary title of 'Furym', which loosely translates as Master Knight. His great grandfather was the guardian of a number of Azkabanni interests on the Dark Continent, including: a number of vaults, mines, and the second most secure prison the Azkabanni ever made."

Augustine cycled through a number of images of the sites in question, with the last being little more than a mountain surrounded by dense jungle and cloud cover. Other pictures popped up on the screen; these being less tame. Depictions of a concentration camp of some sort, as well as a number of very graphic images of people being tortured.

"I apologize for the distasteful nature of the images, my Lord. However, I feel they are necessary to understand the current situation and what exactly we are battling against. Continuing, a warlord by the name of Waitimu Mbadinuju, deposed Nangwaya's grandfather, and enslaved most of his family along with a number of tribes and villages of the region he based himself out of. Nangwaya and his brother escaped to the west, and returned during the Vietnam conflict in the attempts to liberate his family. The attempt failed miserably, and Nangwaya's brother was publicly executed as an example to others.

"Nangwaya escaped and for the last twenty years has led a guerilla movement against the warlord in question. He was captured three days ago, and is scheduled to be executed later on next week…assuming he survives the torture that long. I have already assembled a number of teams to liberate Nangwaya and the other prisoners held in the penal camp, as well as capture Mbadinuju so that we might exploit his resources and knowledge. If all goes well, we will be visiting the prison camp to greet Nangwaya within the hour."

Harry nodded. His face was stony, and his posture rigid. The sight of the pictures angered him, and he could only wonder what the stories behind the other pictures were. Augustine seemed to read his curiosity, because he immediately introduced the next photograph.

"The woman in this photo is Agata Jovanovic. The boy is her eighteen year old son, Bartol. The girl is her fourteen year old daughter, Helena. Her husband, Kuzman, was once the Voice of the Lord of the East, Gabir Mubarak, before he fell out of favor. His punishment was to see his wife and daughter sold to a local drug lord after they were forcibly addicted to heroine. Bartol, the son, was forced to watch his father beheaded. He has been running drugs for the drug lord ever since, in an attempt to buy back his mother and sister. We have already liberated Agata, and with her freed, Bartol has agreed to aid us in rescuing his sister from the drug lord's main estate. We are raiding the drug lord's properties in three hours. If all goes according to plan, we will be in the clear to visit them later this evening."

"And the twins?" Harry asked hesitantly. Something told him that he didn't want to know, but his curiosity refused to leave him be. Augustine's dark expression only added to his anxiety.

"I wish to preface this introduction, my Lord. Out of all the missions outlined today, this one will no doubt be the most difficult and scarring." Harry's frown deepened noticeably, causing Augustine to shift. "Atlanta and Ambrose Leos were abducted from their mother in New York City's Central Park, four days ago. Their mother Corianna, reported the incident immediately, but no sign of the children was found. Her husband, Darius, is our liaison to one of the mundane financial firms that handles our investments. He contacted us two days ago when a picture of his son and daughter was emailed to him by an anonymous person."

The images on screen shifted, and at the sight of them Harry's magic exploded throughout the room. The unshielded electronics were fried instantly, and the liquid in the scrying basin flash boiled. The Net Jockey's were surprisingly unharmed. The Lord of Azkaban stood from his chair, and his emerald eyes we literally aflame. The metal seat he'd been sitting in turned to so much slag. Never in his life had he ever felt so shocked, disgusted, or enraged.

Child pornography tended to have that effect on people.

"Have you found them?" He had no idea how he'd managed to keep his tone even, but from the startled and fearful expressions on the faces of the rest of the room's inhabitants, his emotions were clearly being broadcast. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Y…Yes, milord." Augustine stammered. "We found them thirty minutes ago, but they are being held in a very secure location; one that is tied to and guarded by an unsanctioned group of Triads. We have been gathering more information before attempting a rescue in order to ensure the safety and survival of all the children in custody."

"How many?" The air crackled in time with his voice.

"Thirty five children verified." Bomani growled.

"Is magic involved?"

"No, Majesty. None that we have been able to detect."

"Have the local authorities been notified?"

"We felt it prudent to spend our time gathering as much information as possible, and then running our own Op." Bomani's voice was tight. American justice is fat and slow, and there is no guarantee that those who victimized the innocent will be punished sufficiently."

"Do we have a team there?"

"There is a three man squad on the ground that is mapping the estate as we speak." Kaitlin responded. She and another woman were quickly swapping out parts in the fried computer systems and bringing them back on line. "I have an open line to them now."

"How many men do we need to rescue the kids and burn the place to the ground?"

"Based on current intelligence…" Bomani looked at the info on one of the shielded computers. "Three groups of five plus the recon team. We should be able to secure the estate in just under twelve minutes, assuming we encounter opposition."

"How many invisibility cloaks do we have on hand?"

"Seven, including yours, my Lord." Rebecca offered.

"Gather them and hand them out. Two to a team, with one going to the recon team." Harry's eyes never left the image of the children on screen, at least not until his magic lashed out and disintegrated the thing. "Bomani, I want the head of this organization tracked down and collected; everyone else I don't really care about. I'll leave the planning of the assault up to you, with the understanding that I will be a part of the rescue team. We will be salting the earth after we're through. Rebecca, gather what healers and support staff you need to receive these children. Kaitlin, every child will be identified and where possible, returned to their families. That will be your main concern after the children are settled and cared for. Augustine, contact the Leos family and bring them here as soon as the mission has finished. They are to be set up in comfort and their every need seen to. The other families will receive the same courtesy as they are identified. We leave in ten minutes."

And with that, Harry stormed from the room with Callisto silently following him. Those left shivered with his passing, shocked with the young Lord's response to the crisis. Augustine, however, was very pleased with what he saw.

"To work everyone!" The Lord Regent clapped his hands loudly. "His lordship has spoken and we will obey!"

**************

Hammonton, New Jersey

The portkey dropped Harry and his teams a quarter mile from the country estate that held the children. With the time zone shift, it was now four oh five in the morning, and the world was dark. Harry had only one emotion as Callisto helped him to his feet. Cold, harsh, barely suppressed rage.

There was no moon to give them away, and the estate backed up against the Wharton State Forest. It made the place remote, independent, and most of all private. Harry knew that they were going to use that to their advantage. He looked to Bomani and nodded, symbolically passing the reigns to the seasoned warrior. The large man tapped an ear piece twice, and then mumbled something. Within five minutes the recon team had assembled at their position and was going over the most recent intel with Bomani and the two other team captains.

Callisto did her best to ease Harry's tension, but the magic in his system wanted out. She massaged his shoulders, and when that didn't work, she wrapped her arms around him and simply held him tight. The rest of the teams were looking at him with concern, and Harry did his best to rein his emotions in. The desire for blood ebbed a little, and he was thankful that his eyes were no longer glowing. He had terrified poor Ted Tonks as they had crossed paths back at the villa; he didn't need to repeat the experience with the men and women here. Distracting them was the best way to have some one delivered into a body bag.

It took only a few shot minutes for Bomani and his captains to finish their conference, and the man returned as the other four groups dispersed. He drew his wand and knelt on the ground, motioning for Harry and the others to gather near. With a flick of his wrist a softly glowing map appeared an inch or two off the ground.

"The estate is moderately sized. Twenty rooms above ground and twelve below, spread over three sub-levels. There is a pool house, a separate garage, and a greenhouse. The Leos children and approximately thirteen others are being held on sub-level three, while the rest of the captives are on sub-level two. There are a total of nineteen security personnel and seven staff members. The owner of the house is here, on the second floor in the east wing. We will be attacking from the four cardinals. We are Alpha, and we will be securing the greenhouse before entering the building here – on the south side by the kitchen. Our primary objective are securing the sub-levels and freeing the children. Once that has been accomplished, our secondary objective will be supporting the other teams as they secure the building."

"Who is securing the owner?" Harry asked darkly.

"Team Delta. They have orders to stun and transport. There is already a team on stand by waiting for his arrival. We managed to obtain an extra cloak, so your Lordship will retain the use of his. Jana and Henric will wear the cloaks for our team and act as front guard. Silent running. That means silencing spells on boots, balaclava, and exterior clothing. Once a target is down, your Lordship will collect their weapons and place them in this bag."

Bomani handed over a small leather satchel the size of a book bag.

"The fewer weapons they have left behind, the less chance we have of being shot in the back. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded.

"In the event that there is a surprise or the operation goes FUBAR, Callisto has orders to portkey you out. Will you comply?"

"Rebecca already had this talk with me." Harry smirked. "As far as I'm concerned, you're the boss until we're back at the villa."

Bomani nodded, obviously pleased.

"Very good. Then let us proceed. Jana, point. Renfield rear. Your Lordship is the hub. Be sure to check your corners."

They cast their spells to silence their approach and slid through the darkness up to the estate house. The greenhouse was empty of any guards, and all surveillance equipment was darkened with some sort of black spell that fried the cameras. They encountered four guards, and Harry was slightly shocked to see the bodies suddenly jerk slightly and then fall as Jana and Henric ended their lives silently. Harry and Callisto quickly stripped the men of anything that remotely looked like a weapon before the group moved on.

The made it to the kitchen door on the south side of the house and stopped. Bomani tapped his ear piece twice, and apparently received positive signals from the other teams, because he gave the go ahead to breach the door. Jana unlocked the door with a spell and slid into the house. There was a flash of red, and the soft "thump" of a body hitting the floor before anyone else could enter. Henric and Bomani slid into the room quickly, and found the owner of home stunned and bound in ropes on the floor. Jana peeked out from beneath her cloak and shot Bomani some sort of hand sign before disappearing again.

Harry looked down at the man in disgust.

The Asian man was nude from the waist down and wearing an over sized button down, Strawberry Shortcake, pajama top. Scattered about his body were all manner of frozen sweets, with a heavy emphasis on popsicles. Harry wanted to use the blasting curse to remove the man's head from his shoulders, but he refrained – mostly because death was going to be a mercy he refused to administer to the man. Bomani stepped forward and slapped a portkey on the man, sending him on his way.

They encountered two more guards, with a ring of keys, before they managed to find the hidden elevator that would take them down to the sublevels. From there, it was relatively smooth sailing. Jana and Henric took out each guard smoothly the moment they exited the elevator on the first sublevel. The floor itself was divided into two large playrooms filled with all manner of the latest toys and games; one for boys and one for girls. There were costume closets and mirrors, and two private viewing rooms behind the mirrors with a complete set up of recording equipment.

The rage inside Harry started building again as they entered the elevator to go down to the next floor.

Sublevel two was the girl's wing, and it had two large communal rooms with a rainbow assortment of bunk beds that could be viewed by another set of one-way mirrors along the hall. Names and plaques were festooned to each bed, and Harry could see that all the girls were present and accounted for. They were sleeping fitfully, a few even crying visibly. Bomani motioned for Henric and Renfield to check the two smaller apartments that bracketed the end of the hall. They found a prominent banker and a foreign diplomat that were both stunned and portkeyed away before Harry could reach them.

Bomani, sensing Harry's growing ire, tapped Callisto and Jana to handle evacuating the girls, while he tried to distract Harry by having him gather all the damning evidence that had been found in the room to pin to the banker and the diplomat. The evacuation took three minutes, and Harry's anger continued to roil just under the surface.

Sublevel three was a mirror of sublevel two, only themed for boys. Unfortunately, the head count of the beds came up one short. Renfield and Henric moved quickly to the apartments while the women mimicked their evacuation from the floor above. Renfield opened the door to the left apartment and Harry lost all semblance of control. Green flames exploded from his body knocking everyone flat and causing the building to shake. Harry registered nothing; nothing save the little ten year old nude boy and the naked man.

Each step he took caused the ground to roll and quake. The man was screaming and trying to escape while Renfield reached in and snagged the little boy. Harry stopped him long enough to touch the boy's head, putting the lad to sleep. It wasn't Ambrose, thank Merlin, but it was someone's son. The fires burned hotter still and he felt his balaclava go up in smoke. Once Renfield and the boy were safely out of harm's way, the Lord of Azkaban continued forward. Bomani rushed ahead, stunning and securing the pedophile quickly. He then pulled off his own balaclava, canceling the magical silence as he went.

"My Lord, our initial objective was successful."

Harry nodded absently, raising his wand. He idly noted that the tip was blindingly bright, like a sparkler.

"Please, stay your hand, Lord." Bomani pressed on. Harry's head jerked up to glare at the man. Bomani immediately fell to his knees. "I do not seek to stay this creature's life, Dread Lord. But there is a better way to punish it."

"How?" Harry barely recognized his own voice.

"This man is a Senator of this nation. He is well known and is connected to many people large and small. By revealing his deviance, you shatter him completely. Take what is his, ruin him in the eyes of power, break him. The prisons here are harsh on such people, especially people of such power."

"I thought you said the justice here was fat and indolent. What will keep him from slipping free due to his connections?"

"Mass media." Bomani chanced to look up and pointed to the camera that was still video taping in the corner. "He likes to record his conquests. There are no doubt other tapes News papers, television news channels, the internet…we spread it everywhere, so that he cannot hide behind his name and title. He will suffer, and then should your vengeance not be appeased, we can claim him and punish him as you see fit."

Harry snarled and planted his steel-toed boot into the man's crotch as hard as he could, before turning away to rein in his emotions again. He couldn't stop the tears from flowing as they gathered up all the evidence they could, before Harry shoved the bag into the large warrior's hands.

"Make him suffer, Bomani. Make him suffer for all the pain he's caused."

Harry returned to the villa, silent and as hard as stone. Of the estate, there was nothing left but ashes after he had vented his rage on the building. Thirty five minutes had passed since they had portkeyed in. The authorities would arrive an hour later, to nothing more than a large crater filled with burning ash and debris.

The Lord of Azkaban would move onward from there, freeing Helena Jovanovic, Nangwaya Akpu-nku, and their respective families. In his rage, he freed them; leaving the agents of their pain and suffering as nothing more than smoldering husks. The lives he took would press on him later, but the sight of gratitude on his people's faces made it worth all the nightmares he would suffer.

The leaders of the groups were brought back to answer questions. Bomani insisted that he would handle it personally. Harry made certain that Bomani understood that these people were to be his guests for at least a week, longer if at all possible, after they had filled in all the blanks with the requisite names and addresses. The Lord of Azkaban was nothing if not a charitable host.

Bomani was a very loyal and obedient man, some would even say an over achiever. He made certain that the men would last a month. They wished otherwise, frequently and vocally. In the end, their assets, legal and illegal, were seized and placed in a special fund for those that had suffered their depredations, and Harry had a very long list of names. And once he was on the throne, those names would be visited and invited to spend some time as the guest of Azkaban.

The Lord Regent's tour might have been heavy handed. It might have even been considered overkill. But for Harry, it drove the point home. It made him understand what needed to be done and why. It made him realize that there were people that needed him and that, beyond prophesies and veiled expectations, gave him purpose. He might not have wanted the throne, but it was his. And damn it! He was going to make sure his people were safe and healthy. Even if it killed him.

**************

Hermione walked from the villa's library in a daze. She'd known that Harry was something special, but after having looked at the tapestry with Gillian, she began to understand just how special her love truly was. That wasn't the reason for her stupor though. No, that had come when the woman had invited her to look over Harry's inheritance.

It was fascinating to see how the magical world had dealt with everything. It wasn't a lump sum scrambled together and doled out, as it usually was in the mundane world. No, the magical world's system was much cleaner and more straightforward. For example, today she had learned that there were four types of heirs: the Hereditas Veneficus – or magical heir, the Heriditas Mundus – or physical heir, the Hereditas Universitas, and finally the Heriditas Extremitas.

The Heriditas Veneficus was responsible for all of the magical inheritances that a family may accrue over time. Generally this included things such as: life debts, oaths between families, magical unions through marriage (which were meant to strengthen the both families), and any other form of magical interaction between a family and the world at large. Harry was the Heriditas Veneficus for one family, and Hermione was very familiar with the name. She had stared at it for over twenty minutes in disbelief before accepting the fact that Harry was related to some very important people.

The Heriditas Mundus was responsible for all of the family's physical assets. This included homes, belongings, and the care and well being of surviving family members. Any physical debt accrued by a family was the prevue of the Heriditas Mundus. Harry wasn't named Heriditas Mundus for any family, and Hermione had openly wondered why. Gillian explained it fairly bluntly.

There was generally a primary and a secondary heir for each family. It followed the old tradition of having an heir and a spare, in order to keep a family alive. Should both children survive the parents, then the inheritance was split between them based on their aptitudes. Generally one child was stronger in magic; therefore magic would become the focus of their inheritance. The reverse was also true. In most civilized families, this practice had been successful for centuries. The siblings would carry their inheritance until one died, then the whole mantle would fall upon the survivor, who in turn named their heirs from among the main branch of the family.

It made things quite a bit clearer for Hermione, at least as far as pureblood families went. Unlike mundane families though, magical families didn't automatically choose the first born to be the primary heir. An heir was chosen based on their aptitudes and abilities over the timing of their birth. It was something much more progressive than what Hermione had assumed a few hours ago.

However, sometime after the Crusades (Gillian speculated that it could be as recent as King George the First), the dual inheritance fell out of favor. It was most likely due to greed, but there also seemed to be mitigating factors that Gillian hadn't explained. There was a rash of murders among the heirs prior to the death of the parents, leaving one child Heriditas Universitas or the Sole Heir. As a sole heir, the child in question became the head of the family; thus gaining complete power and control over all assets of the family, be they magical or mundane. There were other examples of when a child would become a sole heir, such as through the banishment of a sibling or the other eligibles being found unfit in some form or fashion. Gillian had seen more of the untimely deaths, rather than the latter two reasons. She admitted that the majority of today's inheritances fell under this banner, especially among the more traditionally dark families.

Sirius had named Harry Heriditas Universitas, mainly to block the Malfoy's from challenging his will. As he was the Sole Heir, it was well within his rights to completely write Narcissa and her sisters out – or at the very least leave it up to Harry to distribute the family holdings as he saw fit. Hermione wondered what her friend would do, considering the letter of instructions Sirius had left behind.

The last was of course the Heriditas Extremitas, or the Last Heir. Harry had fallen under this clause among a number of his families. Yet, the Potter family and the family of Azkaban were the most powerful cases of such. The Last Heir clause was the one thing that had thrown Hermione for a loop. She had understood that magic was powerful, but until today she had not understood its true nature. Whereas before, magic was a tool, like a hammer or a paint brush, now it had become something more in her mind. Had she been logical about it from the beginning, she might have seen this force of the universe for what it was. But in her defense: who, when faced with the reality of magic and all it can do, would apply Newtonian science to this new energy?

Today, however, she learned that magic could and would act upon those that acted upon it. In the event of a life debt, the one owing the debt would be compelled to pay that debt back in someway. They could fight it all they wanted to, but the harder they fought, the harder Magic itself would press back until the debt was well and truly paid. This made Hermione wonder about her own debt to Harry. He had placed himself at great risk with the troll, all in order to save her. How was magic going to make her pay him back?

In the case of the Last Heir clause, Magic pushed for the last heir to procreate. Gillian hinted that philosophers believed that Magic was alive and symbiotic to some extent. It needed to be used in order to live, therefore it pressed for those that could use it to be created. When a strong family line of magic users was threatened with extinction, Magic itself would step in and take action. When applied to Harry, Hermione could almost understand now, why the Killing Curse was reflected. After seeing his lineage, she could see why it would want and needed Harry to live.

That in and of itself didn't bother Hermione. No, the true problem lay in the laws that had been passed because of the Heriditas Extremitas issue. She was aware of polygamy as an intellectual and historical precedent, but she had never imagined that she would be faced with something so…so…archaic. Polygamy was an abstract issue that she'd uncovered in her passive study of religion and the Arabian nights. She had never really personalized it in any form or fashion before, yet today she was being forced to. Harry would have multiple partners, whether he wanted to or not. His connection to Magic was just too primal for it to be any other way. The laws backing the Heriditas Extremitas required that he marry at the minimum three women, and up to as many women as he could comfortably sustain. Which, considering the extent of his physical wealth and political position, was just about an indefinite number.

It made Hermione just a little sick, and more than a little nervous. It changed nothing in regards to how she felt about Harry, but it did open up a whole range of issues that Hermione was uncomfortable dealing with. The worst part being that Harry didn't even know this was coming down the pipe! She wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn't. He wasn't at fault for being who and what he was.

Her emotional control was being sorely taxed, and she could already feel the tears welling in her eyes as she walked down the hall of the villa. She prayed that she would make it to the rooms she'd been assigned before breaking down or running into anyone. Luck, it seemed, was with her. The door to her suite was no sooner shut behind her, than the dam broke and she fell apart at the seams. The tears flowed forever it seemed.

"It's not as bad as you are thinking, Ms. Granger."

"Rebecca?"

"There are precedents in the past, rare though they are, for large and successful polygamous relationships. You have little need to fear losing the Lord-Baron's affections."

"You don't understand." Hermione protested.

"Then explain it to me."

"I don't know that I can." The young genius said miserably.

"Allow me to take a stab at it?" Rebecca asked. "If I am wrong, you can correct my misinterpretations. How does that sound?"

Hermione nodded.

"You are Hermione Jane Granger. You have an I.Q. of roughly two hundred and forty six. Magically speaking, you could have graduated Hogwarts in your third year – however you chose to keep pace with your friends, rather than give in to your parents' desires for you to become the 'Doogie Howser' of Great Britain. Currently you are pursuing your doctorate in practical medicine with a focus in surgery during your summers. You have divorced your parents due to abuse and are currently adrift without home or family. Is this accurate so far?"

"Yes." Hermione squeaked.

"At the beginning of this week you thought the man you loved had been murdered. Afterwards you participated in a particularly unique and very exhausting Heritage Ritual. You participated in the rejuvenation of the Lord-Baron, at great expense to your own recovery I might add, until you were forced to rest. I submit to you, Ms. Granger, that your mind and heart are not able to see or judge the whole picture with clarity."

"How does one normally judge a situation like this?" Hermione grumped. "The man I love is going to be magically forced into a number of relationships against his will."

"And how is that a bad thing?"

"How is it bad?" Hermione looked at Rebecca incredulously. "We don't know who he is going to get stuck with?"

"We indeed know, or at the very least can make some very clear speculation on which women the Lord-Baron will be matched with based entirely on the families that the Lord-Baron has magical contracts with." Rebecca sighed and set her large tome aside. "It is like I said before Ms. Granger, your mind is tired and it latched onto one aspect of the problem without looking at rest of it objectively."

Hermione rubbed her temples tiredly and nodded.

"I do not think your problem is the 'Who' so much as it is the 'Why', Ms. Granger." Rebecca moved over to the bed and settled beside Hermione. "You feel cheated, do you not?"

Hermione nodded miserably.

"I think that I can understand your feelings, if only a little. The Lord-Baron is not only a handsome young man, but also a considerate and brave one. While we were in Gringotts, the guards surprised him and he immediately placed himself between the perceived danger and myself. It was both romantic and foolish."

Hermione laughed at Rebecca's flushed cheeks.

"He does it so thoughtlessly." The bushy haired genius acknowledged. "I call it his 'saving-people-thing', and it drives me absolutely crazy."

"Yet, it was in exactly that situation that you first fell in love with him, was it not?"

"You know about the troll in first year?"

"We discretely researched the Lord-Baron quite extensively before approaching him. That included all of his associates, intimate or commonplace, their motivations and designs for him, as well as the potential power and influence they might wield for or against him." Rebecca shrugged. "It was as much to measure his worth as to understand his impetus. When you are trying to save your people, it pays to be thorough and paranoid. After all, why would we trade one series of despots simply to gain another?"

"So what exactly do you know?"

"Again, Ms. Granger, you are asking the wrong question. Your ties to the Lord-Baron, barring a major falling out, will inevitably reveal the answer to that question."

"So what is the right question then?" Hermione asked helplessly.

"Have you told him how you really feel about him?"

"No." The young witch admitted uncomfortably.

"How can you base any assumptions on inaccurate information?" Rebecca patiently asked.

"What if he rejects me?"

"And thus we come to the true root of your problem." The beautiful Azkabanni witch wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her close. "You fear losing your place in his heart even before having the chance to tell him how much you love him? You fear these nebulous women stealing away the special relationship you've spent years cultivating."

Hermione sobbed as Rebecca pointed out each damning fear.

"No one's going to steal your place, Hermione. The Lord-Baron cares too deeply for that to ever happen."

"How can I be sure?" Hermione demanded. "I can't lose him too! Not after everything else!"

"You'll never lose me, Hermione."

"HARRY!" Both girls jumped at the sound of Harry's voice. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough." He strode into the room and lifted her chin.

He stared into her eyes, looking and seeing something; what she didn't know. But the weight of his eyes and the power swirling there made her shiver. There was something wrong. His eyes looked haunted, more so than usual. Something had happened today, on whatever trip he'd taken with Callisto.

"Harry?"

He closed his eyes, buried whatever was bothering him deep, and shook his head; brushing off her concern. She allowed him the luxury for now, but vowed to find out what was wrong later.

"I may have met Ron first," He smiled softly. "But you've never left my side."

Hermione's heart began to pound as he slowly leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against hers. She whimpered and her body felt weak, but he was there to catch and hold her as the tears of relief broke. She noted him sharing a look with Rebecca, and the other girl simply smiled softly and nodded before gathering her tome and slipping quietly from the room. When he was certain his Major Domo was gone, he turned his full attention back to her; caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Hey."

"Hey, back."

"I hear you have something you want to tell me."

Hermione looked at the young man she loved, and for the first time in a very long time really studied him. There was a weight behind his eyes that hadn't been there when they'd gotten off the train. But the burden that had been bearing down on him seemed lessened; or perhaps it wasn't the burden that had changed, but the man bearing it. Harry did seem stronger.

"You've changed." She whispered.

He looked shocked for a moment, and then that insufferably cute grin that made her heart skip a beat blossomed on his lips.

"Wow. I was really expecting something else there." His tone was positively cheeky, and she couldn't hold back her giggles.

"That's not what I wanted to say and you know it."

"So? Are you going to say it, or am I going to have to start guessing?" He tapped his lips thoughtfully.

Before he could complete his thought, she grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him. She backed it with all the passion and love she could muster, leaving her skin feeling supercharged and tingly. When she finally pulled away, they were both panting and out of breath.

"Wow! I…that was more than a bit unexpected too." He blinked and looked at her with something akin to awe; it made her heart swell. "Thank you Miss! May I have another?"

She laughed as the press of her fears lifted from her soul. Her Harry didn't have a way with words, but his body language revealed everything to her. He knew that she loved him as more than a friend, and he accepted it. Not only accepted it, but even returned it on some level. She didn't understand it, couldn't make heads or tails of it, but she _knew_ it to be true.

Harry Potter loved her.

He loved her, and had loved her in many shapes and forms for a very long time. He didn't trivialize his feelings with empty words. No, he let his actions speak for him. He'd saved her from a troll, born her nagging patiently, supported her mad ideals, and beaten back the great specter of loneliness. He was still a boy in so many ways but, even as an eleven year old, he'd matched her old soul pound for pound.

Rather than fall back into old patterns, Hermione Granger felt she'd try her hand at a new form of communicating. It would most likely require a great deal of practice, but she was willing to make the sacrifice. Reaching out with her lips, she once again captured her love's mouth, letting her actions speak loudly in her behalf.

Harry joined the "conversation" with gusto. Throughout the rest of the evening and well into the night, the couple found a few new ways to say three little words: "I. Love. You."

**************

Harry sat between Rebecca and Hermione at the large table the next morning. The air was just a bit chilly, and from the worried looks Callisto kept throwing his way, he knew that he had kept her up with his nightmares last night. The things he'd seen and done yesterday haunted him, but after speaking at length with Augustine, plans were already being drafted to gather his people home. All he needed to do was get through the next week, and he was certain that things would be better.

He hoped.

Across from him were the Gringotts representative, High Warden Lagnut Goldtongue, and Gillian Thornburrow. Both seemed at ease in pouring over the seven large piles of parchment in front of them, trading the occasional observation.

"I apologize, milord." Gillian set her spectacles aside and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "The High Warden brought up some interesting interpretations in regards to two of the contracts, and I wanted to be sure that we had all the bases covered before starting."

"I understand, Gillian. Take your time."

"I believe that we have managed to work things out to our mutual satisfaction. Do you know anything at all about how magical contracts work?"

"Honestly? None whatsoever." Harry responded bluntly.

"Well, it's more than a bit maddening to tell you the truth. The newer contracts have 'evolved' if you will, and are much more straightforward to deal with. The problem lies with the older contracts. Magically speaking, the older contracts generally tell us when they are ready to be fulfilled; somewhat like a timer going off to tell you that a cake is done baking. Are you with me so far?"

Harry nodded.

"It is all a bit of a mystery, but the problem is not one of language so much as intent. You see, two wizards could have entered into an agreement to pass along some property. They will have written down their desires in fairly straightforward language, but it is the intent behind the agreement that will drive the magic to see to the contract's fulfillment."

"What happens if the intent of the two wizards is vastly different?" Hermione asked. The young witch blushed when Harry's hand covered hers. Gillian smiled at the signs of new love as she formulated an answer.

"It varies. In some cases the contract falls apart completely; other times it is satisfied in a most startling and unpredictable manner. In the end, the magic involved will interpret the intent of those that entered into the contract, regardless of the language used, and fulfill it according to that interpretation. Sometimes, the contract is immediately binding and in other instances, the agreements lay dormant for centuries – even when the language of the agreement could have been easily fulfilled. Still with me?"

Harry and Hermione nodded eagerly.

"Good. A solid example of this can be found in this agreement here." She pointed to one of the scrolls. "This contract was made between Charlus Potter and one Emilio Bones on February 3, 1915. It was in response to a life debt accrued by Emilio from Charlus, who was saved from certain death at the hands of Grindlewald's hunter squads."

"What was the language of the pact?" Harry couldn't help but be intrigued. Gillian replaced her glasses and read from the page.

"In response to a life owed: I, Emilio Edgar Bones, being of sound disposition, do hereby enter into this magically binding contract with my dear friend and compatriot, Charlus William Potter. The end of this pact is the eventual joining of our families, wherein the life debt I owe will be repaid through our children."

"It doesn't specify how the life debt would be satisfied." Hermione noted.

"No it does not, Ms. Granger." Gillian agreed. "This is where the intent comes into play. Magic cares little for vocalization. It is why silent casting is possible. So, we must look to the intent of the men, to understand how the pledge would be fulfilled. What is it that these men wanted to happen?"

"They wanted their families to be joined." Harry said.

"And how are most families joined in our world?" Gillian prompted.

"Through marriage or adoption."

"Exactly. Now then, in reading the journals of these men, it is plain that their hopes were for a formal union through marriage. Unfortunately, both men only sired sons making that dream impossible. Emilio's daughter, Amelia, came after the death of Charlus' sons."

"Making it impossible for the union to take place." Hermione noted. "But what about Harry's father?"

"James Potter was the nephew of Charlus. Therefore, he was a secondary candidate; viable, but for whatever reason, passed over."

"So, let me guess. Now it falls to me and Susan?" Harry ventured.

"Yes, milord." Gillian nodded. "The contract 'activated' for lack of a better term, the moment the Heritage Ritual ended. Now, considering the fact that you are Heriditas Extremitas, and Ms. Bones is almost in the same boat, you can imagine that sooner or later the two of you would have been pushed together to fulfill the pact."

"Regardless of knowing the contents of the agreement?" Hermione ventured.

"Yes." Gillian nodded and handed Harry the parchment to examine.

He nodded but said nothing for a time as he looked the contract over. Hermione and Rebecca watched him carefully, but his face was a mask. For a time his brow furrowed as he read the parchment, and then he simply set it aside and turned his attention back to Gillian.

"Has Susan been notified?"

"Gringotts has sent notification to everyone involved in your inheritances, milord." Lagnut supplied. "It is standard procedure."

"So these people will know that I am alive?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes, but there are spells and charms layered within each missive that will prevent them from disclosing such information."

Harry nodded and relaxed.

"Please continue. What else do you have for me?"

"Well, to get into the meat and potatoes of today's business, Rebecca has a listing and an inventory of all your physical assets; from properties, to gold tallies, and vault inventories. That, in and of itself, will save us a great deal of time. I would strongly suggest you take some time to review these records, if only to gain an understanding of what you have available to you."

Harry accepted the small, yet thick book from Rebecca and thumbed through it absently while Gillian proceeded.

"Now then, let us begin the contractual responsibilities for the Black inheritance. There are three outstanding agreements that have activated, and a fourth bit of business that is already pressing towards completion. The first is an accord between Orion Black and Janus Greengrass. The language is surprisingly straightforward in regards to the terms. Janus was to give his first daughter in marriage to one of Orion's sons. Regulus Black was tentatively named, in exchange for twenty thousand galleons and a promise that the Greengrass family would become retainers to the most ancient and noble house of Black. Regulus died and before Janus produced a daughter. When Ms. Daphne Greengrass was born, the contract remained dormant and Sirius ostensibly passed it onto the next head of House Black. A missive was sent to the Greengrass family concerning the activation of the contract, and they have stipulated their desire to see it fulfilled."

Harry sighed and shook his head. Hermione squeezed his hand in support and kissed the corner of his mouth. It lightened his spirits greatly.

"The next is a dual contract between the late Sirius Black and James Potter. The contract is a joining of House Black and House Potter through the marriage of a son and a daughter of both houses. The language of this oath is convoluted, but auguries have indicated that a son of House Black must marry a daughter of House Potter, and a son of House Potter must marry a daughter of house Black."

"They were drunk at the time, weren't they?" Harry guessed. Hermione snorted and rolled their eyes.

"It would seem so, milord." Gillian smirked.

"Does this happen often?" Harry asked. "The getting drunk and entering into stupidly thoughtless contracts, I mean."

"Surprisingly enough, this is not all that common. You would think that it would be the opposite, but it just doesn't happen all that much. Some scholars have speculated that magic has a purpose and it influences us, just as much as we 'control' it."

The young lord palmed his face and shook his head. It seemed that he would be visiting some of his growing wrath onto the head of his "fathers".

"But the fulfillment of this agreement just isn't possible." Hermione countered. "There are no daughters for House Potter."

"You would think so, but that is not entirely true." High Warden Lagnut interjected. "Considering the state of the Black family at this time, there are three candidates that distantly meet the requirements. Due to the presence of Charlus Potter in the Black family tree, we approached Mrs. Andromeda Tonks to review the situation and with her permission performed a Rite of Proxy, a ritual that would show us if there were any worthy candidates within the House of Black that could stand in for Charlus' blood, regardless of their indirect relationship to the wizard. After invoking all the names of the surviving members of House Black, one Nymphadora Tonks has been selected to represent the daughter of House Potter. Andromeda Tonks acknowledged the union as acceptable."

Harry began banging his head against the table, while Hermione and Rebecca rubbed his back and shoulders. When he finally stopped, he took a deep breath and returned his attention to the solicitors.

"Does she know?"

"We were assured by her mother that the matter would be addressed during our meeting today."

"Bloody hell. So I can expect an angry metamorph to hex me the moment I leave this room?"

"I would doubt that, milord." Gillian smiled. "Attempt perhaps, but I seriously doubt that your Lordship's guards would allow it."

Harry took a deep breath.

"And the proxy for House Black?"

"Therein lays a problem, your Lordship." Lagnut ventured. "Two names presented themselves at the time the rite was performed; one Bellatrix Black and one Narcissa Black."

Harry and Hermione blinked.

"Oh, _hell_ no!" Harry growled. Rebecca squeezed his shoulder quieting him.

"Could you explain that?" Hermione asked.

"We can try, Ms. Granger." Gillian began. "But the problem essentially resides in the magic's interpretation. It also ties into the last bit of business that Ms. Thornburrow mentioned earlier. You see, the Rite of Proxy was performed two days ago. As of that time, Bellatrix LeStrange was a guest of Gringotts awaiting trial, due to her participation in the raid on the bank. When the ritual was executed, and their names were provided as viable candidates, certain things came to light."

"What things?" Harry growled.

"A marriage contract is a magically binding oath." Gillian hesitated, looking for the right words. "Most of these 'vows' include clauses such as: keeping one's spouse healthy and safe, or to ensure the wellbeing of one's spouse."

Harry nodded motioning for Gillian to continue.

"It seems that Rodolphus LeStrange and Lucius Malfoy have violated their contractual agreements, and therefore the magic protecting their marriages has, for lack of a better term, withdrawn itself."

"Bottom line it for me, Gillian." Harry tiredly rubbed his temples.

"To be blunt, milord, even though the law of the land might see them as married women, Magic does not. In fact, they have reverted back to being members of House Black in every magically binding documentation that Gringotts has in their names."

"Such as?" Harry asked.

"Deeds of ownership, contractual agreements with other families, personal vaults; the list is fairly extensive."

"And how does this tie in with this last bit of business you mentioned?" Harry was afraid to ask, but he just had to know. Lagnut grinned, making Harry feel all the more trepidations about learning.

"Considering you were the catalyst for the defeat of Rodolphus LeStrange, you have, by right of conquest, seized the entirety of the man's holdings. Mr. Bomani will share in the spoils for delivering the killing blow, but as we have stated earlier – it is the magic that interprets these things."

Harry just stared, gobsmacked, at the solicitors. There were thousands of questions rushing through his mind about how this could possibly be, but he had no voice to give them life. Lagnut seemed to read some of his thoughts though.

"There are treaties infused within the wards of Gringotts herself, milord. One such is the right of conquest. Should the bank be attacked, those that repel the assault are entitled to seize all properties of those killed, captured, or defeated as spoils of war. Magic has named you conqueror and therefore the plunder goes to you."

Harry blinked and tried to wrap his mind around the goblin's explanation.

"I wouldn't worry about that now, milord." Rebecca whispered into his ear. "The Council of Wardens has requested a conference over the matter for later in the week."

Harry nodded and effectively tuned it out of his mind.

"So, to get back to the issue at hand," Hermione interjected. "You're saying that Harry will be compelled to marry one of these women, even though they are old enough to be his mother?"

The disgust was plain in the young witch's tone.

"Essentially, yes." Gillian supplied. "That is what it boils down to."

"Can I do what Sirius did? Pass it on to the next generation, with instructions to continue to do so until the families are not related so closely together?" Harry asked in desperation.

"The contract is activated." Lagnut shrugged apologetically. "It is most likely due to the fact that you are Heriditas Extremitas. Past experience has shown that you will be pushed to fulfilling any and all viable magical contracts involving marriage, regardless of your preferences."

"Bugger."

"I would table this problem for the moment, milord." Gillian offered. "Perhaps you could speak with Mrs. Tonks on the issue and get more information before making any further judgment."

Harry nodded and removed his glasses. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to fight the losing battle with the building migraine he was experiencing.

"Who else?"

"That is all for the Black inheritance. We dealt with both of the Black agreement in the Potter inheritance and the Bones/Potter contract has been touched upon. As was stated earlier, Amelia Bones, as steward of the family, has been contacted concerning the activation of the contract. I can expect her to be contacting Gringotts for clarification as we speak."

**************

Amelia stormed into the entry hall of Gringotts for the fourth time in so many days. She was tired and she was cranky, and she was holding an impossible letter that had to be someone's idea of a sick joke. Her long legs ate up the floor between the foyer and the Contracts and Conventions desk. The duty goblin must have felt her murderous intent from halfway across the hall, because she could see that he was already setting aside his ledger in preparation to receive her.

"Good afternoon, Madam Director." His voice was precise and professional, which grated on her frayed nerves. "How can Gringotts serve you today?"

"You can bloody well explain this." She slammed the abused letter bearing the official seal of the bank flat onto the goblin's desk with a growl that would have done Moody proud.

The duty goblin carefully took the letter and examined its contents for a moment before nodding.

"If you would wait but a moment Madam Director, High Warden Crabbit Bloodstick will be with you momentarily."

Amelia's ire was derailed at the mention of Gringotts' number two official. The goblin disappeared from his perch before she could interrogate the little blighter. She stewed in her confusion for all of ten minutes before High Warden Bloodstick made his appearance, her letter carefully folded in his hand.

"This way, if you please Madam Director. We have much to discuss."

By the time Amelia left the bank much later in the afternoon, her rage was replaced by numb disbelief. The letter turned out to be real. Harry Potter was alive and well in a safe yet undisclosed location. He was to marry her niece because of some agreement between her father and Harry's great-uncle. The delirious thoughts had her floating through the halls of the Ministry on her way back to her office before she came to a startling realization. Harry Potter being alive meant that the world wasn't about to be flushed down the crapper, and she couldn't tell a soul because the damn goblins made her sign a non-disclosure agreement.

The familiar rage returned, scattering the Greenies from her path. Just how was she supposed to tell Susan that she was going to be getting married, without telling her who her husband-to-be was? Damn Gringotts! Damn goblins! And damn Harry Bloody Potter!

**************

Harry sneezed violently and accepted a handkerchief from Rebecca thankfully.

"What can we expect from the contracted parties?" Harry asked as he dabbed his mouth.

"Any meeting requests from any and all pertinent delegations will be forwarded to Ms. Antolios via Gringotts appointment desk. She in turn will arrange the initial meetings and any last minute negotiations that these families may desire. Now then, we are left with one last order of business: the Flamel inheritance." That name caused Harry's head to shoot up. Lagnut flipped through a few pages of parchment and nodded.

"Excuse me?" Harry croaked, uncertain if he had heard correctly.

"The Flamel inheritance, milord." Lagnut repeated. "Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel have named you Heriditas Veneficus and guardian of a number of priceless magical artifacts, including the Philosopher's Stone."

"But it was destroyed!" Harry protested. "Dumbledore told me so."

The young lord shook his head in obvious confusion.

"And how in the Hell am I related to the Flamels?"

"It is quite a ways back, milord." Gillian offered. "But the connection comes through your mother's line."

"You can't be serious!"

"I am afraid so. When we spoke with M'siuer Flamel, notifying him of your common familial connection, he was quite adamant about naming you Heriditas Veneficus for the Flamel line."

"This makes no sense! Nicholas Flamel is dead."

"And pray who told you that lie?" Lagnut snorted.

"Professor Dumbledore told me, at the end of my first year." Harry countered. "He said that the stone was to be destroyed, and that the Flamels had enough Elixir to set their affairs in order."

"I can assure you Lord-Baron that both, M'siuer Flamel and his charming wife were very much alive and at the peak of health when I saw them two days ago." Lagnut assured.

Harry slumped back into his seat, quite stunned.

"They have instructed me to give you these letters, with the assurance that they will schedule a meeting with you at your earliest convenience."

"Becky."

"Yes, milord?"

"See to it that they are invited to the island as soon as possible."

"As you will, milord." The young woman immediately began writing a note in her large tome.

"I apologize for the delay. Please continue High Warden."

"As I said before, due to certain conditions that M'siuer Flamel desires to explain in person, you have been named Heriditas Veneficus, and are to act as guardian of the family's magic. Herein you inherit a number of magical bonds and agreements, only two of which involve marriage. The first is a contract between Nicholas Flamel and one, Huojin Li, for services rendered in the creation of the Philosopher's Stone. There is not a great deal of clear information on why this contract could not be fulfilled before now, but the conditions on the agreement have activated. The descendant of Huojin Li, one Su Li, is a current student at Hogwarts in good standing. Her parents have been notified and have acknowledged their acceptance of the terms of the original agreement."

"She is a nice girl, Harry." Hermione smiled warmly. "A bit quiet, but smart as a whip. We shared Runes together."

Harry nodded tiredly. This whole day was totally surreal. Lagnut cleared his throat and continued.

"The second contract is most curious. M'siuer Flamel stated that he has tried on many occasions to clear the debt in question, but for whatever reason, the family holding the life debt has refused his attempts; saying that 'it was not the right time' to settle things. However, he received a call during our interview from one Xenophilius Lovegood demanding that M'siuer Nicholas 'pay up' as it were. Apparently, the Lovegood family helped Nicholas escape Cromwell's purges, earning themselves a life debt from the alchemist. When M'siuer Flamel asked what the man wanted, a most curious young woman popped her head through the fire and demanded to be, and I quote, '…married to the very yummy Lord-Baron Harry Potter-Black, future King of Avalon.' End quote. M'siuer Flamel had no choice but to agree to the family's terms. The young Ms. Luna insisted that I carry a letter to this meeting."

Harry held out his hand expectantly.

"I'm terribly sorry, milord, but this letter is not addressed to you." Lagnut passed the letter to Hermione. The young genius accepted the envelope with no little confusion. Harry watched Hermione's face pale for all of an instant before collapsing into laughter. He didn't need to know what the letter said, to imagine its contents. However, he did catch a glimpse of the greeting. The fact that Luna addressed Hermione as her "Equally yummy sister-wife" told him that the rest of the letter had to be interesting.

Leave it to Luna to help Harry find the silver-lining in this terribly cloudy situation.

**************

The next day dawned, and Harry greeted the perfectly beautiful morning with breakfast on the beach. He was happy to note that Hermione, Rebecca, Callisto and the Tonks family joined him. Their presence soothed his frayed nerves and eased his mind. The Leos family reunion had been a balm to his soul too. Their joy told him that he'd done the right thing.

Kaitlin had sent out the tapes of the Senator, banker, and diplomat to the various news agencies last night. The airwaves and internet chat rooms were clogged with the names of these animals. Bomani had been correct, at least initially. Each of the men had been returned to their homes, obliviated of any knowledge of the raid in New Jersey. Within an hour of dawn, the police had two of the men in custody, and the third had his immunity revoked by his own government and was sitting in a cell like the other two. The Asian man that ran the child prostitution ring was also in the custody of the FBI, along with a long list of names, contacts, and copious amounts of evidence to prosecute. The fact that all the information had been delivered by a mysterious source named "LoA", intrigued the masses. It in no way vindicated Harry's sense of justice, but it was a start. He would let the system do its work, and only step in if it failed.

He prayed it didn't.

For now, he would focus on the newest challenges in his life; namely, his future brides. Hermione, in spite of everything she learned over the last week, was still by his side. That alone told him that he shouldn't let her go. It didn't tell him how to go about expressing his desire to have her in his life for the next eternity, though. He looked over at her as she calmly read a book whose title he couldn't quite make out. She was beautiful, and the sight of her brightened his spirits. His other fiancée, however, was another story altogether. The former Auror still sported the same lush-lipped pout from the evening prior, while her hair was spiky and the color of freshly spilt blood.

"Are you going to be angry forever, Nymphadora? It is starting to impose on our day." Andromeda asked archly as she peeled her orange.

"Yes." The Auror growled, glaring at Harry from across the table.

"You do realize that it is not young Harry's fault, don't you dear?"

"If I can't get his bloody fathers, then I'll settle for him."

"That is ridiculously unfair, Tonks." Hermione chided. "Harry is as much a victim in all this as you are. More so if you look at everything together."

"He gets a bloody harem. What is so damned unfair about that?"

"Nymphadora! Such language! I knew allowing you to become an Auror was going to ruin you for good company." Andromeda sniffed.

Her daughter just turned her glare on her mother. The Tonks matriarch seemed wholly unaffected.

"You must concede that Ms. Granger does have a valid point." Andromeda nodded sagely, placing another peel on her small pile of orange rind. "Your fiancé has to please many more women than just you. You should feel lucky."

"Lucky?" Tonks hissed.

"Yes, truly." Andromeda grinned impishly. "You could have ended up married to some old flabby codger, instead of this strapping, energetic ball of teenage hormones. Considering what we all saw during the ritual, I can dare say that you are going to enjoy yourself immensely with our young king. Why, his stamina alone will make up for any lack of experience or fumbling. It counts for a great deal when you are first married, take my word for it."

"MOTHER!" Tonks blushed purple, while Harry, and the other girls did their best to match her. Nymphadora's father simply rustled his newspaper a bit, and continued to ignore the conversation as best he could.

"Well, it is true." Andromeda defended as she popped an orange slice into her mouth.

"It's obscene!" Nymphadora countered.

"You are such a prude, Nymphadora."

"I'm seven years his senior!"

"What will that matter ten years from now?"

The young metamorph spluttered indignantly, trying and failing to come up with a decent response. In the end she settled for glaring at her mother and Harry while demolishing her breakfast. Harry winced repeatedly as Tonks viciously stabbed sausage links before cutting them into tiny pieces. Her eyes never left Harry's the entire time.

"So, Becky." He cleared his throat. "What do we have on the agenda for today?"

"Preparations for tomorrow's trip, milord."

"Trip?" Hermione asked.

"We will be returning to Azkaban for his majesty's investiture."

"Will the ceremony be very long?"

"No. In fact, if all goes as we plan; it will take place without the knowledge of the current Council of Nine."

"Why would you want that?" Andromeda asked. "I would think that having their support would make the transition of power easier to bear."

"The entire council is corrupt." Harry growled. His magic swelled, causing the plates and loose tableware to dance. Tonks swallowed hard and moderated her glare to something less hostile.

"His majesty is correct." Rebecca frowned. "They give mouth-service to their oaths and subjugate the Azkabanni people to lives of hardship and poverty for their own benefit."

"So how do you plan on getting them to accept Harry?" Hermione asked.

"That's the beautiful part. They will be giving their oaths, but the throne won't be as empty as it usually is."

"But how…" Hermione grinned at Harry. "The invisibility cloak!"

"There will obviously be more to the plan than that, but I don't foresee too many problems with the plan Becky and Cal worked up. When you toss in everything that Augustine has prepared, this is going to be a wonderful show."

Callisto chuckled and rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

"So when do we leave?" Hermione bounced in her seat.

"You won't be accompanying us." Rebecca's bluntness took everyone by surprise. She didn't notice their shock, absorbed as she was in reading through the pages of the massive tome in front of her.

"Harry?" Hermione looked at her new boyfriend, an expression of hurt plain on her face.

"It's not a matter of preference, Lady Granger." Callisto soothed. "It is a matter of habit."

"My sister is correct." Rebecca closed the huge book with a thump and a sigh. "The Council of Nine is representative of Azkabanni interests throughout the world. They have their own guards and have been meeting in the same fashion for years. Any deviation from their habitual script would…"

"Alert them that something in the status quo has changed." Hermione finished dully. The Antolios twins nodded.

"His Majesty will be arriving early along with me," Rebecca continued. "…in order to ensure that all is ready. As the Lord Regent's assistant, I habitually have free access to the council chambers for the express purposes of organizing the room for the meeting, so helping his Majesty slip into position and helping him prepare will not be difficult. Anyone accompanying me would arouse suspicion, as I generally perform these duties alone."

"This sucks." Hermione pouted, crossing her arms.

"What about security?" Tonks asked.

"Both Bomani and Callisto will be on hand." Rebecca stated firmly. "And their personal companies will back them should the need arise, although with the proper planning and preparation I cannot foresee any real troubles arising. The greatest danger will be prior to the Oaths, but with care and solid groundwork I am certain we can avoid any worries."

"Expect the best and plan for the worst." Tonks said pointedly. She stared at Harry for a very long time before sighing. "I want this thing orchestrated with precision. I'm not about to let the father of my future children go off and get himself killed before he fulfills his husbandly duties."

"Father?" Harry's expression was completely pole-axed.

"Children?" Hermione squeaked.

"Duties?" Andromeda's grin was positively Cheshire in proportions.

Tonks just shrugged and mopped up some egg yolk with her toast.

"I can't fight what's coming down the pipe, so why bother?"

"But…you were so angry…and the stabbing…with the sausages…" Harry's jumbled words were filled with more than a bit of hysteria.

"Could we have a moment guys?" Tonks turned to her mother, sharing a look with the older woman. "Harry and I need to clear the air."

"Come along dears, we have plans to lay and plots to weave." Andromeda gracefully chivvied the other girls from the table, pausing only to grab her husband's ear before leading the group down the beach to a group of sunning chairs well within sight of Harry and her daughter, but still allowing the pair a small modicum of privacy.

"Harry, honey, there is one very important lesson you need to learn early on in our budding relationship. I'm a woman. We don't make sense, we just are. If you can accept that and still tolerate me, everything will work out fine."

"Does this mean you're not angry any more?" The hope in his voice was plain.

"Hell no! I'm still right pissed about this whole situation, but there's a time to fight it and a time to pull up the boot straps and move forward. Tomorrow, you will be heading into a very dangerous situation, one where I can't protect you as I'd like. I'm not going to waste any more time playing mind games that might distract you from the business at hand. Once this is all over though, I promise that I'll train you up to be a proper husband when you get back from this thing alive."

"Does this mean you're not upset with me?" Harry asked quietly.

"I was never angry at you Harry. It's the situation that has me upset." She sighed, and her hair softened, turning a light and airy pink. "If anyone can understand what it feels like to be blindsided by something of this magnitude, it would be you."

"Yeah." Harry grinned sheepishly. "It's a bit much to take in."

"How can you be so calm about it all?" Tonks demanded.

"Honestly? I'm pretty much numb." He shrugged. "Then again, I've had a lot of practice getting used to these life altering magical catastrophes."

"You're too young to sound that jaded and cynical."

"Maybe. But then again, after going through everything I have in the last five years I think I've earned the right."

"So how do you keep yourself going?"

"I don't know, I just do. Sometimes, I'm doing it because people are depending on me. Other times, I do it because no one else can or will. Hermione thinks I have a hero complex or something."

"So what are your thoughts about these marriage contracts?"

"I don't think I have an opinion right now. I can't really afford to."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The former Auror growled. Harry immediately held up his hands to ward off her anger.

"Tonks, bear with me." He sighed. "Try and see this from my perspective; I have a prophecy hanging over my head saying that I have to face a wizard with fifty plus years of experience on me. My godfather, loveable bastard that he was, up and dies trying to save me while I was trying to save him. He also decided to adopt me, which would have been great if the prig hadn't up and died on me. The fact that he's landed me with not one wife, but many, is just icing on the cake. On top of that, I'm heir to the throne of a scattered and broken nation. All in all, considering everything else, the marriages are probably a pro rather than a con for me right now."

"And why is that?" Tonks asked hesitantly.

"Because I know the majority of the women I'm getting involved with. And the ones that I know well are wonderful witches that I know I can trust at my back." Harry sighed and looked out into the surf. The former Auror was at a loss.

"I know it's not fair to you or the others, Nym. But like you said, there's really no point fighting it. The only thing I can do, for all of you, is give you the best life I can and somehow give you all the love you deserve, especially after screwing up your lives so much."

Tonks reached across the table and gathered his hand in hers. Of all the things he could have said, she hadn't been expecting that. It was humbling that he would place their happiness above his own, especially with everything already on his plate. After a few more moments of silent pondering had passed, Harry's name for her finally registered.

"Nym?"

"Tonks doesn't suit you and Dora seems frumpy to me." He shrugged helplessly. "Besides, Nym kind of reminds me of Nimue."

"So, does that make you my Merlin?" She asked coyly, subtly adjusting her countenance to match the popular image of Merlin's lover.

"I'm game if you are." Harry waggled his eyebrows and grinned, earning himself a light punch to the shoulder.

"Maybe later, once we get to know each other a bit better."

"So we're cool, aren't we Nym?" Harry asked.

"We're cool, Harry. Just don't expect any snog sessions any time soon. This is going to take some serious getting used to before we even think of adding sex into the mix."

"Who has time for snogging and sex?" Harry laughed. "If you're wanting cuddle time, you'll have to schedule it with Becky. I'm booked from now until at least December!"

"Prat."

"Yes. But now you can say that I'm your prat."

"And Hermione's, and Su Li's, and Lovegood's, and Greengrass', and…"

"Hey! You're making me sound like some kind of sultan!"

"Hmmm. Now there's a thought. I'm going to have to see if Hermione's ever read the Arabian Nights…"

Harry chased his new fiancée through the surf, laughing and splashing until the weight of his station once again made itself known. Nymphadora Tonks could be seen smiling happily throughout the rest of the day, and well into the night. She and Hermione stayed up late talking about the Arabian Nights and arguing over who would get to be Scheherezade first.

**************

The Isle of Caer Azkaban

Seven of the nine men gathered, laughing and joking, as they had since assuming their roles as members of the Council of Nine. They were corpulent, self-obsessive, parasites and Augustine Antolios hated them. The only decent man of the Nine, aside from Augustine himself, was Adelmo Rossi.

The Lord of the West was honorable, yet hard. His Argentinean upbringing was politely elitist, and his outlook in life reflected that. He had a very strict social outlook and Augustine knew that he wouldn't be out of place within the pureblood circles of England. The one difference between Adelmo and say, someone like Lucius Malfoy, was that he cared deeply for the people he held stewardship over. He'd bled for them, and while he wouldn't dine with the common man, he made certain that they had food and comforts.

Augustine had explained this to his young Lord, but Harry Potter-Black made no comment beyond a very cryptic: "His oath will tell me if he is worthy of saving.", and then the future ruler of Azkaban had simply returned to preparing himself.

And what preparations they were! It was amazing, the effort that had gone into all the work for this day. Lady Granger had taken his little idea and made a masterpiece of it.

She and Lady Tonks had spent all of last night crafting the identity of the Lord of Azkaban, with Rebecca and the others doing the majority of the spellwork. Augustine shivered at the memory of his lord's mere presence. When he spoke, the deep richness of his voice seemed to hold the weight of ages. When he moved, his body seemed to glide effortlessly across the floor. But all of that paled in comparison to the ceremonial face mask, his Majesty had crafted. While the young women were busy laying their charms on his black and silver trimmed ceremonial robes, Lord Potter-Black had set to fashioning a full head covering that chilled Augustine to the bone.

It was more akin to a helm than an actual mask, formed from a large collection of silver that had been melted down and reformed. There were no seams or rivets, as most common helms had. Yet it was shaped with many harsh angles and had an almost demonic feel to it. From the angular layers, nine bladed spires rose to form a formidable crown, which his lordship sharpened and honed to a razor's edge. The overlapping layers at the brow caused the eye holes to sink back, giving the devilish crown a gaunt feel. All in all, once the helm was on his lordship's head, there was not a single inch of skin visible. For a final touch, Lady Granger and Rebecca inscribed strings of runes for protection all across the helm, giving it an altogether arcane feel that made his lordship all the more alien and otherworldly.

Lady Andromeda Tonks and her husband joined the fun, adding their own creative input at that point. Boots and gauntlets were fashioned to match the helm, along with a belt and heavy scepter that resembled more of a wicked mace than a king's staff. None of them were enchanted, just mundane fabrications that added to the over all ambiance.

The individual pieces were powerful in their own right, but once the entire ensemble was donned, Harry Potter ceased to be. In his place was the immortal Lord of Azkaban, the Archmagus of Avalon, Protector of Magic.

Merlin! Augustine couldn't wait for the looks on the faces of these fools!

The time for socializing came and went, and Augustine took his place at the head of the table, right below the throne. Beneath the long table, the crest of Azkaban was carved in relief, in the hopes of reminding those in power what they were to stand for. It had indeed been a very long time since these men had even thought of the standard, let alone upheld it. Augustine knew that today, all that was going to change.

"I, the Heart of Azkaban, call ye Lords Eight to order." The ancient words flowed from his mouth with passion and familiarity. He smiled inside as he caught two rivulets of blood running down the arms of the throne in grooves especially carved for this very purpose. Lord Potter-Black was following the script with perfect timing.

"We, the Lords Eight, attend." The habitual response was lack-luster at best.

"What oaths do you bring to the throne?"

"We bind ourselves to the throne of Azkaban, its heirs, and the heart of magic from now until Eternity comes. Let our blood defend, the sweat of our brow cultivate, and the flames of our spirit motivate the interests of Azkaban."

The oath was meant to be spoken in unison, but today, like days past, the oath was spoken disparately. It was disheartening, but Augustine followed the ritual as it had been handed down since the founding of Azkaban.

"Azkaban binds herself to you and yours; to shelter and protect, to guide and nurture, and to inspire love and loyalty for all life – magical or mundane."

"Let her enemies falter, her friends find hope, and her peace reign until the end of days."

"So mote it be!"

Augustine was happy to note that all the voices managed to end unified, and even happier that the seal at their feet flared to life. It had never occurred before, and it set the Lords Eight to stumble fearfully from their chairs. The Lord Regent felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as his Majesty's magic pressed down on the room. He immediately turned to the throne and fell to his knees.

"The blood of Immortal Azkaban hears and accepts your oaths."

If the affect of Lord Potter-Black's voice had been chilling the night before, it was down right terrifying now. It…echoed throughout Augustine's body, causing his limbs to feel weak. The Lord Regent cast a cautious glance towards his fellows and noted with glee that all of them, to a man, had soiled themselves. They all had their wands out, sweeping the room for targets, but finding none.

"Who are you?" Gabir Mubarak, Lord of the East, demanded shrilly. It reminded Augustine of a squealing pig. The sweat running down his chubby face was already staining the collar of his silk robes, completing the image in his mind's eye.

"I am the Archmagus of Avalon, Gabir Mubarak." The voice bounced around the hall, and the pressure of his Majesty's magic increased two-fold. None could deny the truth of his claim. It was written in their hearts, upon their very souls, with the magic of their oaths. "I am the Keeper of Mysteries and the Protector of the Nine Gates. I am the Immortal Lord of Caer Azkaban returned to you, Stewards Nine. Stand and be judged."

The magic of the seal flared again, and everyone save Augustine and Adelmo Rossi fell to the floor writhing and screaming. The Lord of the West simply fell to his knees, a look of extreme discomfort etched in his face.

"Rebecca Demetra Antolios, Daughter of Azkaban, attend me."

Augustine watched as his granddaughter rushed to the throne and carefully lifted the cloak from their lord's head and shoulders. The imposing figure, sitting on the throne caused Adelmo to gasp. When the new Lord of Azkaban stood, the Lord of the West dropped his wand and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"Azkaban has judged you, Lords Nine, and you are found wanting." The disappointment was plain in the echoing voice. "Treasonous hearts and black souls from seven of her guardians is unacceptable. Rebecca, you are the Voice of Justice, what is the consequence of such betrayal?"

"Death, dread Lord."

"Death?" The voice chuckled with dark humor. "Escape for such as these, is a mercy that I shall not indulge. Let them meditate on their failures as guests in my prison. Perhaps the Dementors will teach them of the suffering they have inflicted upon my Children."

"It will be as you say, dread Lord." Rebecca bowed deeply and began writing in her tome.

"Rise, Lord Regent. Be counted as friend to the Throne, and receive Azkaban's blessings for your faith and loyalty."

Augustine rose to his feet as Bomani and the Magistrate of Prisons entered the hall. Upon seeing the imposing figure of their new lord, both fell to a knee, and reciting their oaths without truly recognizing what they were doing.

"Bomani, Son of Azkaban, rise and be counted."

"My life is yours, Immortal Lord. Command me."

"Seven of my Nine have been judged and found guilty of oath-breaking and criminal acts against the Children of Azkaban. Take all in this room, save these worthy three, and find them rooms amongst my prison."

Bomani saluted with a fist against his chest, before spurring the Magistrate of Prisons to do the same.

"Magistrate."

"Y…yes, my Lord?" The man's knees were quaking.

"Ensure that their rooms are comfortable. Especially for the former Lords of the North and East." The eye holes of the demonic helm flashed the deathly green of the Killing Curse. "These men will be your guests for a very, very long time."

"Your will be done, Immortal Lord."

Guards were called to escort the men out, none of whom put up any fight, in spite of the natural distraction the new Lord of Azkaban inspired amongst the sentries. Augustine watched as the cancer that had plagued his people for so long was cut away, and a weight lifted from his shoulders.

"Adelmo Benjamin Rossi." Augustine watched as the black figure of his king flowed down the steps of the dais, and circled his counterpart. "Son of Azkaban. Lord of the West. You have been judged, and though your loyalty was found imperfect, your heart has been fair and just to my Children. Rise and face me."

Rossi fairly leapt to his feet.

"The Lord Regent's heart pleads for you, Adelmo." The cold voice echoed.

The Lord of the West turned a surprised eye to Augustine who nodded once.

"I will look upon you with mercy, for his sake." Rossi seemed to fold in upon himself in relief. "But know that your pride offends me. Know you not, that a leader is a servant to those he shepherds? Your oath has ever been to defend, cultivate, and motivate my children through your own example. And yet, you sit upon a gilded throne, while many under your care wallow in the mud and wander homeless. Your mandate has never been to bow before the governments of other nations, and yet you have. What am I to do with you, Adelmo? What penance will you pay, to correct the hardship your hubris has caused to my beloved house?"

Augustine was impressed. This had not been part of the script that they had come up with, but it was brilliant nevertheless. Rossi was crying, unable to look at anyone in the room due to his shame.

"I…I do not know, dread Lord. Command me, and it shall be done."

"Lord Regent."

"Yes, my Lord Azkaban?"

"You have spoken for this man."

"I have, Immortal Lord."

"I will then leave him in your care. He is to be stripped of his hereditary titles and wealth, as his fellows will be. Their assets are to be distributed amongst the poor and needy of my Children and aid in their return to lives befitting Azkabanni. Let them be fed and clothed from the gold that was paid for by their blood, sweat, and tears."

"It shall be as you command, my Lord."

"In regards to Rossi, grant his family a modest home, one fitting to their needs only. He shall work closely with you to uncover the disease of corruption within my kingdom. Dig it up, prune it back, and burn it out so that it will never take root amongst my Children ever again. Do you understand what I am asking of you Adelmo Rossi?"

"I do, dread Lord, and I thank you for your mercy."

"Learn from your mistakes and become a better man, Adelmo. That, above all else, is what I require of you." The man nodded. "Now then, Lord Regent, I believe it is time to clean this House and call my Children home. What say you?"

"It shall be as you command, Lord Azkaban."

"Be on your way then. Rebecca shall be my Voice. Should you need my attention, seek her out and I will make myself available to you."

Augustine and Adelmo bowed deeply and formally to their new ruler, and then left. Adelmo lasted a full forty feet down the hall from the throne room, before he collapsed in a heap of frazzled nerves. The Lord Regent had to hand it to the boy; he'd surpassed all expectations, and then some.

**************

Harry lifted the helm from his head and grinned at Rebecca excitedly.

"So? How'd I do?"

He was more than surprised when the beautiful young woman dropped her book and seized his lips in a searing kiss that left him feeling tingly all over. When she realized what she was doing, Rebecca stopped and immediately leapt back to fall on her knees before her lord.

"Please forgive me! I do not know what came over me!"

Harry blinked at the sudden loss of contact and tried to muck his way through the warm haze his Major Domo had left in her wake.

"Becky?"

"I apologize most humbly for my impropriety my Lord! It shall not happen again!"

"Damn." Harry murmured disappointedly. He kind of wanted it to happen again. He shook his head to clear his mind and stepped over to Rebecca. It took no effort to lift her body from the floor and smooth the wrinkles in her formal robes.

"My Lord…" Harry pressed a finger over her mouth to silence the request for punishment he knew was coming.

"Becky. Stop." He sighed and played with a hair that had come loose from the tight bun she'd put her hair in this morning. "You were carried away in the moment; nothing more, nothing less."

"Yes, milord. But…"

"No Becky." He shook his head. "I refuse to punish you, and I order you not to punish yourself over something this trivial. If anyone should do the punishing, it should probably be Hermione. Are we clear?"

"Yes, milord."

"Harry." She looked up at him puzzled. "It's my name, remember?"

"Yes, milord."

"You're supposed to be using it, instead of all this 'Lord' business. We're alone, see?" He spun her around to take in the hall. "Now then, what are you going to call me?"

"Harry, milord."

"Close enough." Harry sighed. "Shall we go back and tell the others how it went?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Good!" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and grinned boyishly. "You have the portkey, so take us home."

"Home, Harry?"

He paused and thought about his words.

"Home is where your family is right?" At her nod, his smile brightened. "Then let's get back to our family."

Rebecca smiled and nodded herself, before producing a small golden hoop from the inner pocket of her robe. Harry gripped the golden circlet with two fingers and Rebecca mimicked him, tapping her wand against the metal. There was a pulling sensation at their navels, and then the throne room was once again empty. But it was certain that it would not remain empty for long.

End Chapter Four


	12. Nomad 02

Nomad:

A multi crossover

Author's notes:

Due to the ambiguity of the Ranma ½ timeline, I am taking some liberties with the calendar.

Chapter Two

From the Journal of Kasumi Tendo:

Sunday, December 3, 1989

_We have spent four months with the Pearson family, and have recently traveled back to England with Sir Timothy and his beautiful wife Dipani from their estates in India. Our attempts to reconnect with the BPRD have been fruitless. Sir Timothy's contacts in the States have categorically denied the existence of the Bureau both, within the United American Republic of Magic and without. It simply doesn't exist. That in and of itself was a major blow to our hopes, as it confirmed the theory that we are no longer in our true timeline. We have rolled with the news, as befits practitioners of Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu._

_Time travel, alternate timelines, and dimensional displacement are not unfamiliar to us. However it was the bread and butter of another department in the BPRD that we had very little contact with. But, true to the tenets of Anything Goes, Ranma and I have adapted and overcome the challenge._

_The UARM was very interested in the initial interviews that they conducted with us during our stay in India, and the magical arm of the United States government recently extended both Ranma and I an open-ended invitation to contract out as consultants to Aesir and Themis, the wizarding version of the Military and the FBI. Representatives from the American government seemed intrigued about the concept behind the BPRD, which essentially would marry both the magical and non-magical resources into one entity. I am not excited about building the BPRD from the ground up. Without Hellboy, Abe, and our other friends from the Bureau things just wouldn't be the same. Ranma insists that we not burn any bridges and I have agreed. To that end, we have opted to act in an advisory capacity only for the time being._

_In spite of this offer, Sir Timothy and his family have also put us in contact with the International Confederation of Wizards, in the hopes that they might have, or can come up with, an answer to our predicament. We met officially with the ICW in August, where Etienne Delacour, Sir Timothy's good friend, introduced us. We will return at the next convening to update our status with them. In the interim, we have already had offers from the French to join their magical police force._

_In spite of this offer and the offer from the American contingent, Ranma has insisted that we not jump into anything, yet refuses to give me a straight answer as to why he is so hesitant. I have a pretty good idea what he has in the works, but I am afraid to get my hopes up. There are signs indicating preparation for a proposal, but I refuse to place myself in a position for disappointment. If it happens, it happens. I can also understand his reasoning for not wanting to get involved in government work again. It served us well when we had it, but it wasn't something that really appealed to either of us. I am content with what we have currently built for ourselves here._

_Shortly after arriving at the Pearson's home, Ranma offered his services as a body guard and jack-of-all-trades for the family in payment for their hospitality. Sir Timothy flat out refused the offer, saying there was no need. His daughter Lakshmi however, immediately accepted on behalf of her husband, Matthew Arcand. Matthew was reluctant at first, but after having seen Ranma practicing one morning, revised his opinion on the matter and has hired Ranma as his personal bodyguard. They are currently on their first real trip outside of France, Britain, and India – visiting Bangkok, Thailand of all places. Ranma seemed unnaturally nervous prior to leaving, and gathering from his haunted dreams, I'm certain that something unpleasant happened in Bangkok with Genma on the first training trip. My beloved won't talk about the past, preferring to live in the present, but I can't help but be curious. I'm not about to push him on the subject, but perhaps letting him know that I'm willing to listen will open some of those doors. The only reluctance I have at the moment, is a fear that he will tell me. Ranma has suffered horrors in his life, and I fear the shadows of those terrible experiences coming between us._

_Regardless of what happened, I will make myself available to him. He takes precedence over all my fears._

_Until then, Ranma has given me a mission to complete during our time apart. He has decided that it is time for us to buy a house. We've talked about it, and have even gone so far as to set aside a serious amount of cash for the purchase. The small Tomb Raiding that Ranma did in Teku Benga has pretty much set us up for life and with Matthew helping us to manage our investments – well, I know that I won't be complaining about the budget anymore._

_In spite of all that, I know that he feels we have over stayed our welcome with the Pearsons, even if Sir Timothy insists otherwise. It would be nice to have my own home again, and the fact that Ranma is suggesting this means he expects that we will be here for a while. Part of me is sad that we are setting down roots, but another (much larger) part of me is jumping for joy. This world is fascinating, and I am excited to explore more of it. Maybe I can convince Ranma to take a trip to Japan? It would be nice to sneak a peek at our old stomping grounds, and maybe we'll catch a glimpse of this world's Ranma and Kasumi. That would be fun – even if the Matthew and Lakshmi think it would be a bad idea. Well, not so much them, as it is the French government speaking through them._

_Stupid Statute of Secrecy._

_Speaking of Magic, Sujata and Mehadri assessed us both for magical talent in late August and we have tested positive for the magical…gene? Trait? I don't know what exactly they call it, but what ever it is that makes you able to do magic…we have it. This of course, explains why the UARM and the ICW are so interested in us. The British Ministry has not contacted us officially, but a strange man from something called "The Department of Mysteries" spoke with us after our meeting with the ICW, so I'm almost certain that sooner or later, we will be approached for recruitment._

_Poor Ranma refuses to train himself in it beyond what he needs for his job. He sees the discipline, or "stupid stick waving", as a weapon or a crutch that inspires laziness – and from the way that magical folk rely on it so heavily I can understand his position. However, I cannot discount its usefulness. How many chores could I have finished with a simple _flick_ and _swish_ of my wrist? I am already taking up Mehandri's offer for private schooling, and perhaps I can convince Ranma to sit in with me when he returns._

_Only time will tell._

_--KT_

**************

Thursday, December 7, 1989

Bangkok, Thailand

CRACK!

Ranma had endured torture before. He and pain were old friends thanks to Genma's training. Still, these Thai wizards had been creative in their approach. They had captured Matthew and Ranma the moment they'd set foot outside the portkey terminal late Saturday evening; meaning of course that there was a serious leak in Matt's organization. Ranma intended to plug it personally the moment they returned to France.

But first, there was these bastards to deal with.

The wizards had drug their captives into a warded warehouse, and rather than make demands, had immediately applied the screws. Matt was beaten bloody for an hour and then stuck in a chair while they started in on Ranma. The young martial artist was stripped naked and suspended spread-eagle from a rafter. From then on it was cut this, stab that, whip here, burn there. After each attempt Ranma would simply smile that damn cocky smile of his, which seemed to enrage the leader of these pricks.

Ranma still wasn't certain what was worse torture, listening to Kuno or this moron Niran Sakda. The idiot was so full of himself, and like all mediocre villains, he could monologue like nobody's business. It bored Ranma so bad that he actually fell asleep, which was apparently a no-no. The minute the young man had begun to snore, Sakda introduced Ranma to a bit of magic imported from Great Britain – the Cruciatus curse. In spite of not screaming, Ranma had to give these wizards their due when it came to that bit of magic. It sucked. It sucked in ways that couldn't even be described. Thankfully, the Soul of Ice does wonders for pain manipulation. He was going to feel every bit of this crap in about a week or so, but by that time Sakda and his "Sons of Dawn" were going to be buried twelve feet under with their wands shoved far up their backsides.

When it seemed that the Cruciatus had no effect, Sakda had been enraged at the affront. The orders to his followers were simple: leave Arcand alone until the pig-tailed one was a broken lump of blood and offal; which suited Ranma just fine. So long as his boss was safe, he was happy.

That was on the second day, and since then their captors had gone to great lengths in trying to get him to scream. They'd pulled out his finger and toe nails, abused his genitals with various tortures, just finished with the flame whips, and were now getting ready to apply electricity. Ranma could see the fools filling a conjured bucket with water and from the feel of the chi in the room, they were dropping the temperature to just above freezing. They would use the water to shock his system, and then apply the electricity.

Unfortunately, they were in for one hell of a surprise.

The water came, the curse activated, and the ropes loosened. It would surprise many, not just the Sons of Dawn, when Ranma exploded into an orgy of death. It was bloody, it was efficient, and it killed another part of Ranma's soul. But, in the end, he could accept that burden, in-so-much as no one else would have to suffer at the hands of men like Niran Sakda. The slaughter, for there was no other word that could be used for the event, lasted less than three minutes – start to finish. In that time, two hundred and thirty of the Sons of Dawn died by Ranma's hands.

It was amidst this blood and gore that the young warrior stood over an armless and legless Sakda. The copious amounts of warm blood on Ranma's skin had not triggered the curse to shift, so it was a vengeful goddess that had conquered the Dawn's Favored Son. Huddled in the corner of the warehouse, opposite Matt, was a young man – no older than fifteen. Ranma focused on the boy, rather than his defeated foe. It sickened her that the kid was so obviously terrified of her, but a message needed to be sent. It would no doubt start here in Bangkok and hopefully spread. She wasn't naïve enough to think that some other low life would try this crap at a later date, but hopefully the charnel house she left here would be a deterrent to anyone else. If not…well, Ranma was committed to Matt's safety, and Heaven help the poor souls that didn't take the hint.

"You there!" The kid flinched. "You understand English?"

The boy nodded hesitantly.

"Good. What's your name?"

"S…Samyan"

"Well, Samyan, you made a really stupid mistake getting involved with these bastards. Since you look like a bright kid, I believe you'll learn from this experience and not make the same mistake again. Right?"

The boy hurriedly nodded.

"Smart kid. Now listen carefully to what I have to say. I don't care how you do it, but over the next week you are going to go to every bar in Bangkok and tell them what happened here. After you finish your story, you tell them that Matthew Arcand is off limits. Tell them that the Sons of Dawn got off easy. If you do a good job, then we'll never see each other again. If you do a crappy job…" With a flick of Ranma's wrist and the hiss of a vacuum blade, Sakda's head landed in the kid's lap. Ranma waited for the boy to push the thing away and look back at her before continuing. "Well, you're not going to do a crappy job are you Samyan?"

The boy shook his head vigorously.

"Good. Now get out of here."

The boy wasted no time in making good his escape, leaving Ranma and Matthew alone amongst the dead. It was surreal. Sorting through the wands of the wizards was even weirder, but it had to be done. There was no way that Ranma would be able to release her boss otherwise. Stupid wizards and their crutches. It took a good ten minutes to find a wand suitable to her needs before she could proceed.

"You look like crap, Matt." Ranma released the magic holding his employer to the chair.

"Hello Ms. Pot, I'm Mr. Kettle." The man's voice was raw and strained, but even. Ranma wasn't sure if shock had settled in yet, but if it hadn't it sure would soon. They had to get to safety before someone else targeted them. The young bodyguard cast a quick cooking spell that shot a jet of hot water from the tip of her wand. The curse triggered and the majority of the blood sluiced from Ranma's body onto the floor.

"Funny guy." Lifting Matt from the chair told Ranma a great deal about his employer's health. He had multiple broken ribs that would need to be bound and from the way the man cried out, at least one of his legs was broken. "Damn it. Lakshmi's gonna kill me."

"Get me home in one piece and I'll distract her long enough for you to escape." Matt hissed as Ranma set him down on a relatively clean stretch of floor near a wall.

"Hell no!" Ranma ripped a robe from a corpse and began tearing it into strips. Matt's chest would need to be wrapped and a splint for his leg made, until he could get to a doctor or a healer. "I learned my lesson long ago, man. There ain't no escaping. Women are dedicated hunters and will find you no matter where you run. Learn that lesson well Grasshopper. The only way to survive their wrath is to suck up and pay the piper."

"Does chocolate soften the blow?" Matt groaned as Ranma began tending his wounds.

"Some. Flowers and a candle lit dinner help too, but oddly enough taking the brunt of their punishment usually softens their heart faster than anything else. Well, that and telling them that their cute or beautiful right before they land the final blow."

"I'll have to remember that." Matt blinked sagely, because he obviously couldn't nod very easily. "How did you get so wise in the ways of women?"

"My old man engaged me to a hell-of-a-lot of women. All at the same time."

"Damn. What was your father smoking?"

"Damned if I know. He sure as hell wasn't sharing." Ranma groused.

"How many is a 'hell-of-a-lot' in your book?"

"Six main players, if you include Kasumi-chan and her sisters. But I think, there towards the end, there were somewhere between eighteen or nineteen contracts on the table."

"How did you survive?"

"Heaven only knows, man." Ranma snorted as he applied the splint. "Probably Kasumi."

"She does have a way of diffusing hairy situations, doesn't she?"

"Damn straight. I think her smile is registered as a lethal weapon in some circles."

Matt coughed back a laugh as Ranma finished and closed his eyes.

"Take a rest Matt. I'm gonna see about looting the place for some clothes and other useful crap. I know they trashed our stuff when we came in, so we'll have to make due with what's on hand." Ranma summoned all the wands in the room into a neat pile next to the man. "While I'm doing that, see if any of these sticks fit you."

The man nodded and eagerly began the task, if only to distract himself from the pain. It took about an hour and a half to finish the grisly work but, by the end of it all, Ranma had netted quite a haul for them. He'd had to levitate Matt into a set of underground rooms at one point, but that proved easy enough with a makeshift deckchair fashioned from the robes of the dead wizards and other odds and ends. It was in these underground rooms that Ranma uncovered Sakda's sanctum, and more importantly their original wands and Matt's business papers. There was also a treasure trove of information that Ranma couldn't make heads or tails on, but Matt insisted they take anyway. Apparently he'd found the name of the leak, one Barnabé Roux, whose head was going to roll if the look on Matt's face was any indication. Ranma made a note to ask if he could help in any way, before turning back to the looting.

In the process of their search, Ranma freed a number of prisoners. They were all women and children for the most part, but amongst the group they found three men that were in the same boat as they were. Two were mundane bankers from Switzerland and Germany, while the third was a wealthy Australian business man. They all made fast friends with their saviors and Ranma found at least seven children from prominent families within the government and business world that had been kidnapped to extort money and favors that allowed the Sons of Dawn to empower themselves.

It was a happy ending after it was all said and done. When the forty one souls left the warehouse, Ranma made certain that no-one would ever use the place again. It took over an hour of focused meditation to find the right breaking point, but no one complained about the results. If anything, the entire district cheered when Ranma brought the warehouse down.

Thus, contacts were made and new friendships embraced. Ranma and Matt developed a whole slew of eyes and ears amongst the Thai of Bangkok, and more than a few life debts. Happy children were returned to relieved and grateful parents. Matt was healed to tip top condition, and Ranma grudgingly accepted help healing what his own body was having trouble with. The business meeting that they had originally come to Bangkok to deal with might have turned out to be false, but in the end both men felt they'd come out of their ordeal a little richer than they expected. Before they left Thailand, the tired pair made certain to buy special gifts for the women in their lives, just in case.

It was while shopping for these gifts that Ranma came to a life altering decision; one that involved the love of his life, rings, and a long and happy future together. He would need some help from Matt's wife, but Ranma was intent on making this Christmas one that Kasumi would never forget.

**************

Tuesday, December 19, 1989

_Rue de la Saintete,_ Marseilles, France

Re-adjusting to England wasn't something that was easy for Ranma in light of everything that he and Matt had endured in Thailand. It wasn't the food. Genma had taught him to consume what you could, when you could – and Akane's forays into the kitchen had made such things as Haggis and Blood Pudding seem sweet and filling by comparison. One could readily say that Ranma's pallet was used to the strange and unusual.

It wasn't tea time either, although the tea was still weird as hell. Nor was it the odd way people drove, even if that took a long time to get used to as well. Having been taught by agents of the BPRD, driving on the left side of the road was quaint at best. No, the real problem he was still having with Great Britain was the language. Having spent a grueling amount of time earning his education in the United States, his English was nothing like what he was hearing now. Even after six months of practice, he was still getting things turned around. Stuff like pants and trousers, and trucks and lorries.

Stupid language.

Still, there was something unique about England; a sense of down to earth elegance about the country that Ranma couldn't ignore. Sure, if he had a preference he would probably go back to the States in a second. London wasn't New York, but it still had its own charm – a charm that had completely captivated Kasumi. Ranma wasn't one to begrudge his girlfriend being sucked into the local culture; it had happened to him in the States and she hadn't said a thing. The least that he could do was reciprocate, especially considering the revelations he'd had in Sakda's house of horrors. Besides, aside from the dreary weather, England wasn't so bad. He'd had to stomach worse places when he'd been on the road with his old man.

A sense of welcome nostalgia swept over Ranma as he thought about old times on the road with his father. Looking back on them, he could readily admit that they were great times, even considering all the stupid things that his father put him through. He missed the freedom of traveling from one dojo to the next and not having to worry about anything but the Art.

Those days were long gone though, and Ranma no longer had the luxury of losing himself in the single minded delusions of his youth. He'd left all that behind the day that he and Kasumi walked out of the Dojo, and each step of the journey since then had forced him to grow up a little more. He'd graduated High School with good marks, blasted through his Undergrad work in record time, and thanks to the BPRD seen and been involved with more weird crap in the last year than he'd seen most of his life.

For Ranma, that was truly saying something.

It was hard to escape and in many ways it was harder to accept some of the things he'd seen and done since walking out of the Tendo Dojo. He'd achieved goals that he'd never dreamed of with his education proving, to himself at least, that he wasn't an idiot. Thanks to Kasumi, he'd smoothed out some of the rough edges that had plagued him all of his life on the road. He'd fought and defeated supernatural monstrosities and eldritch horrors alongside Hellboy and the BPRD. And, miracles of miracles, he'd finally allowed himself to fall in love with an incredibly selfless and beautiful woman.

Amidst all of these achievements, the last was the only one that mattered to him. That was readily driven home in Bangkok thanks to Niran Sakda and his "Sons of the Dawn" – stupid bastards. Ranma had been doing his best not to think about the experiences he and Matthew had been involved in during their trip to Thailand but, to be honest, he couldn't think of much else. Killing that many people did that to a person. The nightmares were filled with various scenes and sporadic moments of torture, death, and mayhem, and it was hard to accept the fact that he wasn't the same person he had been at the beginning of the trip. The shock had come and gone, and in its place had settled something decidedly dark and unwelcome.

The Thai wizards had only had him and Matthew for a short time, but they had made the most of the short captivity. Ranma had faced his mortality in that dark torture chamber, and it was only Kasumi's face that allowed him the strength to do what had to be done to get Matthew out of Niran's compound in one piece. The fact that he had embraced the primal killer within would haunt him to the rest of his days.

Saffron had been reborn, but nothing in this world would ever breathe life back into dead. Ranma had left Niran Sakda and the rest of the "Sons of the Dawn" scattered in pieces amidst the wreckage of the mad man's lair, yet he couldn't bring himself to feel too sorry about that fact. The lack of remorse still didn't help him sleep at night though. Even now, two weeks later, he still felt the warm, phantom blood that had splattered his face and hands during his battle from Niran's warehouse.

Ranma shook his head to drive the memories away. He needed to focus on the here and now. He was alive. Matt was alive. Both were back with their loved ones, and that meant that it was time to celebrate life. Ranma was now committed to doing what he'd long feared doing. He had to bite the bullet. Kasumi needed to know how much he loved her and he needed to remind himself that the nightmares of Bangkok could no longer rule him. That was why he and Matt's family were currently in Marseilles, France's oldest city, browsing the _Rue de la Saintete_, looking for engagement rings. Kasumi was distracted with extra lessons from Mehandri under the pretence of "preparing" for the holiday break. He was grateful to Lakshmi's sister, and had made it a point to buy her a thank you gift to show his appreciation.

The ring was to be the next to last step in his plan to surprise Kasumi. Matt had already helped him find a good muggle-born realtor, who they were supposed to meet after picking out the ring. Karen Healey was supposed to be one of the best in placing magical folk in predominantly non-magical places. Considering the amount of chaos that followed Ranma around, he felt it best to have all his bases covered.

He wasn't so concerned about finding a house, as much as a plot of land to build on. Kasumi deserved to have the house that she wanted, and that meant building it from the ground up. He guessed that she would want to be in a neighborhood, like back home, but he held out hope that she wouldn't mind having a place in the country where he could really cut loose. Maybe he could swing a deal for both? They could have a place in the city to spend the week, and a place in the country to relax at. The idea had merit. He would have to make sure Karen had a solid understanding of what they were looking for. In the end, as far as he was concerned, so long as Kasumi was there, he could pretty much live anywhere and be happy.

It might be presumptuous to pick out the ring and potentially where they were going to build, but Ranma couldn't afford to waste anymore time. He needed it to be done and done quickly. Life was too short to waste, which was precisely why he brought Lakshmi along for the trip. After all, who better to advise him on making these purchases than Kasumi's best friend?

"This is the one Ranma."

He snapped out of his reverie and looked over Lakshmi's shoulder. Little Magali bounced on her toes and nodded her head. The ring was simple, elegant, and yet gorgeous at the same time. The diamond was unlike anything he'd ever seen. It seemed to glow with a soft white light that warmed the heart. It didn't hurt that the cut and style matched Kasumi's tastes perfectly. The clerk rattled off a bunch of meaningless information about charms and upkeep, but Ranma let it wash over him without taking much in. The only thing that he'd really picked up was that the diamond was one of a handful pulled from the smoldering remains of the Tungusta blast crater in 1908. As a parapsychologist, and having had extensive experience with the fall out from the paranormal, this caused a red flag to rise in his mind.

"What do you know of the history behind the other diamonds?"

The clerk didn't seem all that put off by the question in the least.

"Out of the one hundred and forty seven diamonds recovered from the site, none have ever been known to bear a curse or hold dark magic at all. Quite the opposite in fact." She brought out the box that held the ring and matching wedding band, offering both to Ranma for his perusal. "According to my grandfather, Perenelle Flamel, one of the initial investigators of the phenomenon, discovered the diamonds. She had a small bracelet made from the first seventy seven and sold the rest. Out of the remaining diamonds, some were purchased by various magical governments world-wide for further study, and the rest were purchased by jewelers, collectors, and a few of the Flamel family's close friends and associates."

Ranma looked to Matt for clarification.

"That is probably the best endorsement you'll ever get, Ranma." Matt hugged his wife close. "The Flamels are experts in a number of fields, but Perenelle has focused extensively in uncovering the secrets of such artifacts. If she felt safe to sell the gems, then you can rest assured that they are safe as well."

"You willin' to stake Kasumi's life on that?"

"If I may, Monsieur." The saleswoman ventured. "This ring has had many people wear it over the fifty years that it has been in our possession. My own mother wore it for over a year, with no ill effect. I can guarantee that it is safe."

Ranma nodded absently and looked to Lakshmi. She nodded her head and motioned for him to go ahead. He sighed and closed his eyes. If there was a true balance to the universe like some of his old teachers claimed, then he was due a pretty huge break right about now. That said there wasn't anything to do but take the plunge.

"Wrap 'em up."

Magali squealed and clapped her hands as the clerk went about wrapping up his purchases. They didn't leave the shop without new jewelry for both Lakshmi and Magali either. Matt's wallet might have taken a deep hit, but the smiles on their faces were priceless. Ranma could only hope that his future was as blessed.

The easy part was over, now he had to figure out how he was going to go about asking her without making a dinner out of his shoes.

**************

From the Journal of Kasumi Tendo:

Sunday, December 24, 1989

_HE PROPOSED! HE FINALLY PROPOSED! I'M GETTING MARRIED!_

Beneath those words was a wizarding picture of Ranma kneeling before Kasumi, beneath the beauty of the lights of the Eiffel Tower, proposing. The snow surrounding them, and the lights in the trees made the whole scene magical. It was nothing short of the perfect moment, and Kasumi's passionate kiss was all the answer a worried Ranma would ever need – in this life, or the next.

**************

April 19, 1990

St. Barthélemy, French West Indies

The wedding had been fantastic. Lakshmi and Kasumi had been given a blank check while Matt had promised to keep Ranma occupied and out from under foot while they made their preparations. The wedding itself, an eclectic combination of Christian and Shinto ceremonies, was held in the Buttes-Chaumont, a romantic park on the north end of Paris. The waterfalls and majestic view of Paris from the pavilion at the top of the man-made bluff made the whole affair completely magical. Kasumi was positively angelic in her wedding kimono, while Ranma looked every inch the Japanese lord in his own wedding attire. The weather was perfectly warm for mid-April, and regally clear. Kasumi had asked Sir Timothy to stand in for her father, and the man had openly cried when the bride and groom kissed.

No one could have asked for a more perfect April 15th.

The reception was memorable, with the Pearson clan all holding some position of honor in the wedding party. Mehadri, Sujata, and Lakshmi were bride's maids, while their daughters honored Kasumi as their new "Aunty" with flowers and kisses. In turn, Kasumi officially publicly adopted them all as her nieces, and named them maids of honor one and all. Magali and the Patil twins insisted on stealing a number of dances from "Uncle Ranma" while Kasumi was spun around the dance floor by all of the men of the Pearson clan.

It was obvious that Matt would be Ranma's best man, but no one would have expected him to give a glimpse into what had happened to them in Bangkok during his toast. By the end of the tale, everyone was looking at the pair in awe and sympathy. But Matt simply smiled and raised his glass to Ranma and named him brother. It was humbling and even though he felt extremely embarrassed, the young martial artist accepted the heartfelt toast with grace. His new bride couldn't have been prouder.

The gifts had been overwhelming, but none more so than the town house in London, the country home in west Aylesbury, and the apartment in Nice. The first Kasumi had known about and had helped select herself. The second they had visited together and she had fallen in love with, but thought that Ranma wouldn't have wanted. While the third had been a gift from Matt and Lakshmi, to ensure that Ranma got out and had fun once in a while. Many other gifts had been given, from the traditional toaster to the quiet unexpected event of having their dual citizenships for the United Kingdom and France rushed through the red tape. It was the wedding of Kasumi's dreams, and from the way she smiled Ranma had certainly gotten his dream too.

Now, the newly weds were four days into their honeymoon and Kasumi had refused to leave their villa in favor of "making up for lost time" – Ranma didn't complain in the least and did his best to ensure that he met his wife's every expectation. The languid smile she sported in her sleep amidst the lazy sunshine of that late morning told him he must be doing something right.

"Morning, Lover." Kasumi purred and snuggled closer to her new husband. Ranma slid a finger through the curtain of her hair, pulling aside to reveal her beautiful eyes.

"Morning yourself." His grin seemed to be competing with the sun today. "You intend to be a lay about today, or do you actually want to go outside and take some pictures to prove that we played tourist?"

Kasumi growled and slid from beneath the covers, and up her husband's torso so that she could nibble on his throat.

"I didn't come here to be a tourist, Ranma."

"Oh?" He shivered.

"I came here to be a newly wed." She sucked hard on his ear lobe earning another shiver. "That means we get to spend the next two days playing, before we have to spend our last day pretending to be good tourists."

"Oh."

Ranma learned a valuable lesson early on in his relationship with Kasumi. She was always right. And by chance, if she was wrong about something, she was still right. In this instance, he was glad that she was right.

They followed Kasumi's plan, with but one minor change – they only spent half of their last day pretending to be tourists. The rest was spent giggling beneath the sheets and enjoying the wonder of their new life together.

**************

Monday, May 29, 1990

Geneva, Switzerland

There is a balance to the universe. With all good things, there must come bad. Bangkok had been balanced by his marriage to Kasumi. The relative peace and smoothness of their lives over the last month was being offset by an official inquiry by the ICW, led by none other than the Supreme Mugwump himself, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

News from Thailand had spread like wild fire, but like all bureaucracies nothing had been done about it for months. There had apparently been a small number of the Sons of Dawn that had survived Ranma's culling, and like most idiots who had been severely outclassed, they were now raising a stink in an attempt to get both Matt and Ranma extradited back to Thailand to be tried for their "heinous slaughter of noble men" in a seedy warehouse in Bangkok. Kasumi was worried, but both Matt andMonsieur Alais Delacour, the French delegate for the ICW assured her that there would be no extradition.

Ranma didn't care one way or another. If the farce went through, he would finish what he started in December and do a more thorough job cleaning house before he came home to his wife.

The young bodyguard sat beside Matthew in one of the lower boxes of the Confederation's underground arena. Sir Timothy sat beside them, stoic and unconcerned in the least. Not only did they have a majority of the Confederation backing them, due to the rescue of their own, they also had another ace up their sleeve. The amount of information that Matt and Ranma brought back with them from Thailand had been terribly overwhelming, and it was going to be fun to see the looks on the Confederation's collective faces when the fact that more than a few members of this very council had been in bed with Niran Sakda. When that came to light, heads would roll.

Ranma ignored the call to order by Dumbledore, as well as the majority of the meaningless drivel that went on at these things. It wasn't until the Thai representative stood that he stopped doodling on a pad of lined paper.

"We, the Wizarding Nation of Thailand, demand justice! Here before you sit two murderers. Cold blooded killers that have stolen the lives of some two hundred and fifty of our most noble sons. Honored brethren in magic, there can be no other vote, beyond the acceptance for extradition in this case if we are to honor tradition and decency."

Ranma shook his head at the sudden murmuring amongst the other boxes.

"Thank you, Khun Aoon Songkhla." Dumbledore seemed munificent and magnanimous in his acceptance of the blowhard's speech. "Are there any who stand in defense of these men?"

Alais Delacour immediately stood, as did the representatives of the United States, Australia, and Germany. Publicly, the other nations deferred to Delacour as he had stood first, privately, Ranma knew that this had all been arranged well before hand.

"It is with great honor and humility that I stand before this delegation today, to refute the blatant and hideous lies that these good men before you stand accused of. We, the noble Wizarding Republic of France, refute all claims that the representative of Thailand has presented before you this day. He has said that these men are murderers. We have evidence to the contrary, stating that it was not murder, but self-defense and the liberation of innocents that resulted in the deaths of these so called 'most noble sons' – men that had kidnapped, tortured, and attempted to kill, not only Monsieurs Arcand and Saotome, but men, women, and children from many of this Confederation's own member nations."

Alais paused long enough to sip from a glass of water, ignoring the unprofessional ranting coming from the Thai quarter.

"With this evidence at hand, the Wizarding Republic of France formally charges the Wizarding Nations of Thailand, Cambodia, Burma, Romania, and the Ukraine…"

The roar from the named nations was drowned out by Delacour's voice as he continued.

"…with kidnapping, extortion, attempted murder of her citizenry, misappropriation of sensitive information governed by this body, and abuse of this Confederation's trust. In light of these charges, we are demanding sanctions and a formal investigation into the singularly corrupt government of Thailand."

The United States representative immediately stood.

"The United American Republic of Magic, seconds our French brother's proclamation."

The German rep and the Australian rep stood together and immediately added their support. Now, if this played to script, then one of the reps would demand to know what evidence they had. Yup. There went the dude from the Ukraine, his fat face was an interesting shade of purple and everything.

"This is outrageous! We demand to know what so-called evidence the French delegation has to prove their baseless accusations!"

"Monsieur Delacour?" Dumbledore looked almost chiding. Ranma thought the old man looked down right condescending. "What evidence do you bring before this body?"

"Multiple sources, Supreme Mugwump. Pensieve testimonies, not only from the accused, but also the testimonies of those rescued from captivity within Niran Sakda's fell lair."

"SLANDER!" Aoon screamed from across the arena.

"Order!" Dumbledore's wand boomed, and Ranma had to give the man kudos for the power behind it. He could get the same from a good ki blast, but this guy was dirt old. Not that Ranma would ever judge someone based on their age; Cologne and the Old Letch had broken him of that long ago. "There will be no further outbursts from the gallery. Am I clear?"

Aoon nodded petulantly in defeat.

"Please continue Monsieur Delacour."

"Thank you, Supreme Mugwump. Aside from these first hand testimonies, we have acquired documentation from Sakda's own hand implicating the Confederation representatives of the nations named, as well as a number of government employees from the same. More names are listed as well, from many other nations among this august body, but our investigations have yielded that these members were unduly influenced through blackmail or ensorcelled against their will."

"Will this evidence stand against professional investigative standards?" The rep from Italy asked.

"It will." Alais spoke with utter confidence. "And in the interest of transparency, we will yield the original documentation to an investigative arm assigned by this body, with the understanding that multiple copies have been made in the event of damage or loss."

"Of course." The Italian rep smiled as the Romanian and Cambodian representatives paled. "Thank you for your thoughtful thoroughness."

Alais nodded his head. Dumbledore tapped his wand against his lectern like a gavel, drawing the attention of the body.

"If you will then present the pensieve testimonies for examination by our Board of Examination, we will stand in recess while he authenticates the memories for our review. Please return to your seats when the chimes toll."

Alais did as instructed, and the gathered men dispersed.

"Pompous windbag." Sir Timothy growled.

Matt snorted and shook his head.

"No Dad, tell us what you really think."

"I hate this political crap." The older man grouched as they waited for their turn to pass through the door to the atrium. "The whole lot should be binned."

"I should hope that does not include me, Sir Timothy." Alais Delacour's smile was jovial and light.

"You are the exception to the rule, Alais, and you know it."

"Thank you for the ringing endorsement, Sir Timothy. I shall have something to share with Apolline tonight after all. Perhaps this will ease her concerns about me playing politics."

"I doubt it." Ranma grinned.

"True. True. But a man can hope."

"Personally, I think you should stick to wine and cheese." Matt nodded sagely. "It is where your true talent is after all."

"Bah! What did my wife bribe you with, Matthew?"

"It wasn't Apolline, Alais. It was Fleur and Gabrielle that promised an annual tithe if I could convince you to stay closer to home."

The men chuckled as they walked to the French diplomatic offices, swapping stories of the children and the usual mishmash of niceties, until they were safely ensconced in Alais' office.

"So. How are we looking?" Ranma asked.

Alais poured glasses of wine for everyone as his assistant brought in a large platter of various cheeses. It was light fare, but Ranma didn't think he was up to eating anything else at the moment. Alais smiled at the young man's nervousness and took pity on him.

"Iron clad. The Board of Examination in this case consists of three members – the Swedish, Indian, and Canadian representatives. Each is an expert in the mind arts and will readily authenticate the memories through the use of a time turner. From there it will presented to the body, in response to our accusations."

"So we're going to have to watch our own memories?" Ranma asked worriedly.

"The next few days are going to be very trying, but I am certain that we can garner a pass for you not to be present for the worst of it. You will have to sit through the other memories, and the Thai rep will most likely demand you be present for the memories of the final battle, but beyond that I doubt that the body will force you to relive your tortures."

Ranma nodded and sighed. The rest of the conversation was inane and light hearted, but Ranma didn't participate. The chimes sounded and the men filed back into the arena. The Examination Board gave their stamp of approval and the memories were dumped into a large stone pool at the center of the large chamber. From then on the afternoon was filled memories from various people depicting their kidnapping and imprisonment at the hands of the Sons of Dawn.

Ranma felt sick at the sight of the treatment most of the women received, and by the time the session closed for the evening the young man had but one desire – find his wife and forget. It would be a sentiment that would recur with great frequency over the next three days of the deliberation.

Contrary to Alais' assessment, the body politic did demand Ranma's and Michael's attendance for the entirety of the review. Both men had attempted to shield their wives from attending, but both Kasumi and Magali had seen the aftermath of the first day of review and demanded to support their husbands. Sir Timothy was of two minds about the whole thing, but recognizing the fact that there were some things that couldn't be unseen, he managed to convince the women to wait in the French offices during the memory review under the pretence that neither woman had clearance to be in the Gallery itself during that part of the hearing. Their men would be wrung out at the end of the day, but they were appeased that they could be on hand to comfort them.

The three day review was backed by four days of interviews and testimony. The first day was reserved for a number of the international victims that had been held by the Sons of Dawn. The questions were straightforward and surprisingly brief. It raised all of the hackles on the back of Ranma's neck. Matt was grilled on the second day of questioning, while Ranma suffered the last two days. Sir Timothy made it a point to have Kasumi and Magali in the box during these interrogations, if only to keep both men grounded and prevent another blood bath from occurring. The inquiry was harsh and in some cases very underhanded, but Ranma could feel the whole thing coming to an end – with them on top. The picture painted of Thailand was not flattering in the least, and Ranma knew that they were going to be on the receiving end of a serious political enema if they weren't careful.

Here, in his sixth hour of questioning on the fourth day, Ranma could feel the opposition's desperation. He'd beaten them at every turn with simple, truthful, answers. Even now, they were doing their best to ensnare him in a web of words and double-speak.

"Mr. Saotome. I have but one question for you." The Korean representative asked smoothly. Ranma, as one of the only truly human members of the BPRD, had dealt with enough bureaucrats in his short professional career to notice a set up when he heard it. He nodded with a polite smile and waited calmly for the next shoe to drop.

"After your escape from captivity, what was your motivation?"

The young man frowned. He could easily see where the man was wanting to take this, but wasn't quite sure how to escape the trap. So, he did what he'd never really learned to do when dealing with Nabiki – he stalled for time.

"I'm not sure I understand your question, sir. Could you clarify what you're asking please?"

"Certainly Mr. Soatome. What would you say your mindset was upon freeing yourself from your bonds? Were you angry? Excited?"

Ranma frowned, but decided that it couldn't hurt to answer honestly.

"Truthfully, I was frantic. Monsieur Arcand and I had a small window of opportunity to exploit if we were going to escape Sakda's warehouse alive. In order to capitalize on that window, I had to hit my opponents hard and fast. As a kid, I was trained to be a martial artist. That meant protecting those who could not protect themselves, with the luxury of bruising and breaking bones. As an agent of the BPRD, I was taught differently. Bruising and broken bones of an opponent generally led to the death of a team member or in some cases worse."

"Worse?" The Argentinean representative interrupted. "What could be worse than death?"

"When you are fighting things like vampires, werewolves, and inter-dimensional eldritch horrors, if you don't take them down in the first pass they usually get up and make your day a hell-of-a-lot worse. I know of a case where one child vampire took out an entire squad of twenty agents because a man hesitated to destroy the thing when he had the chance."

"'Thing', Mr. Saotome?" The Canadian rep asked. "Isn't that a bit harsh? Vampires are sentient, not beasts."

"Vampires, in my experience, are hollow, soul-less, undead engines of destruction, Mr. Representative. They may be sentient, but to my knowledge and due to my first hand encounters these beings are driven by only two things: death and propagation of their species. Fifteen of those agents sent to handle the vampire epidemic were turned, becoming undead shells of their former selves. Myself and two others were responsible for putting them down. It's not an easy thing to kill a friend, its even worse to see good friends become twisted, evil reflections of who they had been not two weeks before."

Many of the representatives paled.

"I see." The Argentinean representative spoke softly.

"No. I don't really think you do." Ranma countered. "I believe that I understand what the Korean representative wants me to say. He wants me to say that I was angry at the treatment that I received at the hands of Sakda and his men. He wants me to implicate myself in a revenge killing, based on what you all witnessed there at the end. Unfortunately, I won't be humoring him. Monsieur Arcand and I were outnumbered a hundred to one from the outset. Matthew was in no position to lend aid, and in order to return my best friend and boss back to his family alive and well, I needed to even the odds by any means possible."

"Must you have resorted to lethal force, Mr. Soatome?" Dumbledore interjected. "From the impression your memories gave, surely you had other options."

Ranma couldn't believe the words that had just left the man's lips. Neither could Matthew for that matter.

"What other options do you think I had available to me, Mr. Mugwump?"

"Well, considering that these men were not vampires, werewolves, or inter-dimensional horrors, I cannot see the justification in killing them outright. Surely you could have aimed to disable, cripple or render them unconscious."

Ranma snorted and shook his head.

"Mr. Dumbdoor."

"Dumbledore." The old man corrected.

"Right." Ranma mentally rolled his eyes. "I don't think you appreciate the level of skill it takes to disable, cripple, or render unconscious some two hundred opponents while they are actively trying to kill you and your friend. I'm good; hell, I'm one of the best, and had it been just me I may have even attempted it and pulled it off. The main issue here is the fact that it wasn't just me. I used the level of force I deemed necessary to ensure that Monsieur Arcand lived to see his daughter again. Will it haunt me? Every night for the rest of my damn life. Do I regret it? Not one bit."

"And how do you explain the summary execution of Niran Sakda?" The Korean representative demanded.

"I explain it in small, easy to understand, words." Ranma growled. "Sakda was a rabid dog; a danger not just to Monsieur Arcand and myself, but to our families, our friends, and our communities. If I didn't put a stop to him, then others would suffer just as Matthew and I had; if not worse. I've seen and dealt men like him before. Their pride refuses to allow for defeat or surrender, Niran Sakda would have continued to hunt and persecute us had we escaped, if only to save face before the men he led. But, instead of targeting us directly, he would have gone after our wives, children, or friends in order to strike back at us."

"You are that certain?" Dumbledore again interjected. "Certain enough to become Judge, Jury, and Executioner to a man that could no longer hold a wand or even walk for that matter?"

"If it had been your loved ones, would you have chosen differently?" Ranma leveled a steady gaze on Dumbledore, and anyone else that happened to meet his eyes. No one save the Supreme Mugwump was willing to match his stare. "I chose to err on the side of caution. I don't expect you to agree with my position; and since you were not there to experience first hand the fear and danger, I can't see how you can possibly judge me either. Matt and I made it home. In the process we freed a number of innocent people who had been enslaved, amorally abused, and held against their will. Sakda's dead, and the world is better for it. I ended a threat to not just the people of Thailand, but by the evidence shown, the entire international community at large. I wouldn't change a thing, if faced with the choice all over again."

Ranma inwardly seethed at the look of disappointment that Dumbledore was shooting his way, but outwardly he was calm and collected. Thank heaven for the Soul of Ice!

The hearings came to an end two days later, with a majority vote coming from the international representatives to exonerate Ranma and Matt of the deaths Ranma had caused. It was a surprise to many that Albus Dumbledore had voted against the two men, which forever made him an enemy of the Pearson family.

**************

June 23, 1990

The aftermath of the ICW hearings was nothing short of a headache for Ranma and Kasumi. Negative press, death threats from anonymous sources, two separate assassination attempts, and of course governments trying to recruit Ranma for any number of legal or not-so-legal positions. It was frustrating. It was maddening. It was really starting to piss him off.

In the end, it took Matthew gently "suggesting" that he take one of the offers, if only for the Saotome's to find any peace of mind. Ranma hated the idea, but he knew that the pestering wouldn't stop any other way. Matt's family didn't need another target painted on them any more than Ranma and Kasumi did. It was just getting to be too much, and everyone knew it.

Thus, Ranma hot-footed a replacement through three grueling months of a crash-course training program, with the liberal aid and abuse of time turners provided by the French government. Bernard wasn't the best in Ranma's book but, by the end of his training, the magical Legionnaire was up to the slave driver's minimum standards and under serious threat to improve quickly. If anything happened to the Arcand family on Bernard's watch, the man had best hope to God for the mercy of death – because Ranma sure as hell wouldn't oblige him.

The rest of May passed on into June, and a most intriguing offer came from the ICW of all places. The events in Thailand had rattled enough magical governments from their sleepy monotony, encouraging them to ratify a new arm of international cooperation – a branch of international law enforcement.

This criminal taskforce would be loosely based off the more mundane tactical police agencies used to fight terrorists, combat international crime, and other abnormal world threats. It wasn't the BPRD, but it was pretty darn close. Ten nations out of all the members of the ICW, volunteered to host the fledgling team and, after much arguing, it that number was reduced down to the top five "super powers" for the sake of convenience. It was decided that the team would rotate every other year between the five until a "field office" was established in each area of interest. Those offices would be staffed by a committee, but only after the vanguard team proved the model worthwhile.

There were five of them on the team, two women and three men. Adelaide "Addie" McKinney was an Australian Hitwitch, with an impressive record and a penchant for hitting on Ranma's wife (and Ranma when he was a she). Bedros Zakaryan was an Armenian agent specializing in investigations, along with a number of other interesting skills and connections. The last member of their team was Marc Two-clouds, a real life Native American Texas Ranger. Adelaide made the mistake of calling him "Tanto" during the meet and greet and learned first hand that Marc had no problem cursing a woman. The Comanche dropped her with a wicked spell-chain that left her vomiting and evacuating her bowels, while a nasty tribal curse dried out her skin to the point of painfully cracking. It was safe to say that Marc got his point across long before he reversed the spells.

They were a good team, strong-willed and capable. The problem was they were all loose cannons and loners. Ranma knew they could be a crack team; it would take some serious training, but they were all diamonds waiting to be cut and polished. Sadly, there was no time for training. Within the first two weeks alone, they were baptized by fire.

It seemed that someone among the high mucky-mucks not only wanted them to fail, but wanted them to fail in a seriously embarrassing and permanent way. There was no time for acclimatizing to one another, or learning each other's preferred styles; hell, there was no time for much of anything beyond fast paced, highly demanding, adrenaline pumping work. Ranma and his team couldn't have been happier. They put down a goblin insurrection in Brussels, a rabid manticore in magical Athens, and a contingent of dwarven freedom fighters that had taken the Finnish Minister of Magic hostage.

Ranma felt for the poor bastards too. It seemed that this world had very little tolerance for anything resembling racial equality. Despite the crappy politics and the general stupidity of the men and women who insisted on remaining stuck in the Victorian era, Ranma and Kasumi were enjoying their new job. Closing down a magical Mafioso and people like Sakda was its own paycheck.

In spite of the pace, their team of five gelled cohesively. Take the current case for example; a rogue coven of vampires dusting it up with a pack of lycans. The call had come dawn from on high, the Czechoslovakian magical government couldn't contain the problem any longer and the fights had begun spilling over into the non-magical side of things. The mundane government was already unstable and the volatile political unrest really didn't need a bloody massacre of ore citizens caught in the crossfire to spark a civil war that would tear the country apart. The assignment: neutralize the leadership of both groups and arrest or put down any other resistance.

Adelaide and Marc wanted to go in guns blazing, while Kasumi and Bedros felt it best to find out the history of the players. Ranma nodded and listened to both arguments before laying out his plan. The audacity of it had everyone laughing with excitement. That laughter tripled when it succeeded. Kasumi and Bedros investigated the pack and coven that was warring, coming up with names. After they had the info, Ranma took Addie and Marc to hunt down the leaders of both forces. Capturing them was unnervingly easy, as was leading both warring groups to a large warehouse in the middle of Prague. Convincing both groups that he had the building, and every other warehouse within a quarter mile rigged with explosives took some doing.

Kasumi was so proud that Ranma had finally developed a poker face that she insisted on giving him smoochies right there in front of everyone. That had been rather embarrassing, but totally worth it.

So, there they were. Ranma with a garage door opener, smoothly lying out of the side of his mouth about a dead man switch; and the leaders of both groups were tied to high backed wooden chairs back to back, with a heap load of grey modeling clay strapped to their laps. It was a beautiful bluff that had everyone well behaved. Ranma then went on to lay out his planned peace talks. In the end the Coven and the pack agreed to a time share of Prague. One group got it from January to July, while the other got it from July to January with a three day dead period where no one was in the city at all. The ultimatum for the agreement was all or nothing – either they accepted it, or Prague was going to be coven and pack free. The leaders accepted and arrangements were made for both groups to leave the area until the coven returned on July fifteenth.

Ranma released the leaders and made portkeys for both groups that would put them on opposite ends of the city. The leaders remained behind in good faith, to ensure that both groups abided by the rules, and then set free. Ranma made certain that they understood how "disappointed" he would be if he had to come back and re-negotiate another dispute. Both leaders assured him that there would be no need. Ever.

Addie, using a squirt gun filled with holy water, zapped Ranma and molested the red head until Kasumi was able to beat her back. When later asked why she had done it, the crazy Aussie simply said that the whole experience was the hottest thing she'd ever seen done in her life. Ranma was not amused. Kasumi was torn. Marc and Bedros couldn't stop laughing for the entire trip back to the United Kingdom.

The international portkey dropped them in a special ICW receiving room at Heathrow, wherein the group broke up to write their reports and prepare for tomorrow's debrief. Ranma and Kasumi were grateful to finally be alone, and rather than apparate home, they decided to spend the afternoon in London. It was here, amidst all the hustle and bustle of those coming and going, they crossed paths with a person who would forever change their lives.

The boy across from them was lugging a huge suitcase and a large dog carrier, desperately trying to keep pace with the pair of overweight people in front of him. The man and the woman with the bulldog seemed intent to take turns turning back to the boy in order to chastise him for being too slow. Ranma had seen and been the subject of enough abuse to recognize it when he saw it. He stepped forward to intervene, but Kasumi's hand on his arm pulled him up short.

"Why'd you stop me?" He demanded crossly.

"Didn't you feel it?" Ranma shook his head. "The boy is magical.

"So? All the more reason to step in. That fat bastard doesn't seem the open minded type, does he?"

"No. He doesn't." Kasumi confessed, biting her lip and frowning.

It was an expression Ranma had come to know and trust implicitly. Lakshmi said that Kasumi was a bit of a Seer, and her gift always manifested as hunches or nagging intuition. One thing going for her was a perfect track record.

"Talk to me."

"The boy's important, Ranma. Very, very important." She motioned Ranma to follow the boy, but ensured that they maintained a safe distance as they continued to talk. "I can't explain it, but I know that we can't go in 'guns blazing'; not if we want to really help the boy."

"So we play it cool and watch from the sidelines for a while?"

"Yes. We need to gather more information." Kasumi winced and frowned darkly as the boy was cuffed in the head by the man, and cursed at by the woman holding the bulldog. "It needs to be hard evidence too. Something that can't be swept under the rug by the British Ministry."

"You think they've got their hands in this somehow?"

"A feeling, yes." She nodded. "Every time I think about reporting it to the Ministry here, I feel a sense of pointlessness…I don't know how to explain it better."

"Okay, I think I understand." Ranma nodded. "How does this sound? We gather the evidence; pictures, video, memories, the whole nine yards. We pass on copies to the British Ministry, giving them one chance to do right by the boy. If they don't do anything, then we'll go through other channels."

Kasumi nodded, refusing to take her eyes off the boy for an instant.

"Okay then. I'll check in with Anton and Miguel for the initial debrief, just so they can pretend to be our liaisons and earn their paychecks. You stick to the kid, and get Marc and Bedros to start digging up info on the mundane side of things. I got a hunch that we're probably draw a blank on the magical side of things."

"I think you're right." She kissed him quickly while the boy was wrestling the large suitcase into the boot of the car. "Be safe."

"You too."

He watched her discretely cast a tracking charm on the car before disappearing into the crowd, presumably to buy a map for the spell to follow and get a rental. Something in his gut told him that this was another one of those pivotally magic moments, where the universe shifts paths for good or ill.

His gut, in spite of everything Akane's cooking had done, and tried to do, to it had never led him astray. Okay, the Amazon incident was the exception to the rule, and mostly the old man's fault any way; but in his tummy's defense, Ranma could honestly say that eating that feast was the catalyst to eventually becoming the Old Crone's student. That, in turn, led to him learning all the techniques that had saved both his and Akane's lives. So, given a choice, he would always follow his gut.

Years down the road from now, Ranma would acknowledge his own gift of foresight. And he would staunchly maintain that the prophetic powers of his belly were just as powerful as Kasumi's own gifts. Friends and family would scoff and call it indigestion.

Ranma knew the difference though.

**************

March 7, 1991

"Damn it, Anton!" Ranma growled and tossed the packet of photos onto the desk in front of the Frenchman. "They force the kid to live and sleep in a cupboard under the stairs!"

"You think I enjoy sitting on this?" Anton de Ville countered. "For the love of all that is holy! I want to see the boy freed from this situation as much as you do! But you must step back and look at what has happened to date."

"I know what's happened, Anton. I watched it play out." Ranma growled and threw himself into the chair in front of the desk. "But it's been nine months! Nine effin' fruitless months of watching the boy get pissed on by people that should be protecting him! How can you expect me to sit back and not do anything?"

Miguel Castillo leaned over from his spot by the wall and picked up the folder that Ranma had dropped, thumbing through it.

"I wouldn't call these the harvest of nine fruitless months, Ranma. You have managed to put together a solid case for all you hard work."

"Harry's still stuck under the stairs, Miguel. Until he's free from that place, I can't in good conscience pat myself on the back."

"I'm not asking you to. I am, however, asking you to cut yourself some slack." Miguel put the folder back down on the desk, allowing Anton to pick up where he left off.

"You've built the mother of all corruption cases against Albus Dumbledore and the British Ministry of Magic. All that is left to do is tie everything off and connect all the dots in such a blatantly obvious way that whatever ICW council this is put before can't help but act. Until we have that catalyst, there's a chance that it won't stick.

"Maglio Vespucci." Kasumi murmured from her seat beside Ranma.

"The smuggler?" Miguel asked. "How does he tie into it?"

"He ties to Snape and Malfoy." Ranma grinned. "With Fletcher as the middleman."

"Okay, but I'm still not seeing the connection back to Potter." The Spaniard poured himself a cup of tea as Anton lifted one of the photographs.

Kasumi just grinned and began digging through the older files until she triumphantly slammed her prize down between the two men. Wizarding surveillance photos showed Mundungus Fletcher selling something to someone in a dingy alley. The fact that Harry just happened into the image, being driven by slaps to his head and shoulders by his aunt had been sheer luck. That luck seemed pure providence as Fletcher, and a now revealed Vespucci, seemed to be discretely watching with dark smirks as the boy passed them by. Fletcher winking at Petunia Dursley was just icing on the cake.

"Oh, it can't be that easy." Anton whispered.

"Vespucci to Fletcher. Fletcher to Snape and Malfoy – two former Death Eaters…one who bribed his way free of the charges if Fudge's accounts are anything to go by, and the other who was bailed out by Dumbledore himself. Fletcher even ties back to Dumbledore in a round about way, due to dealings with Albus' brother Aberforth. Tie in Fletcher flirting with Harry's aunt, and even if the photo is only circumstantial evidence, it presents a clear and present danger to a national hero – who also happens to be a minor in an abusive home. This at the very least should allow us a warrant and clear us to question the Dursley woman."

Ranma stared at his wife with pure adulation. Anton and Miguel were both grinning from ear to ear.

"Alright, you've sold me. Nail down Vespucci and Fletcher. Have Marc and Addie question them. Kasumi, you and Bedros are clear to discretely interrogate the Drusley woman. Get me something hard from her about how Mr. Potter came to be in her home. Tie it all up and I will sell it to the oversight committee."

"By the numbers you two." Miguel warned. "The fact that we're bringing Albus Dumbledore into this is going to demand that we dot our 'I's and cross all of our 'T's – anything less and we will be hanging from the gallows, and Dumbledore sweeps it all under the rug like he's done with the Mundanes."

"And what about me?" Ranma asked.

"You get to sit on the Dursely home to watch out for Mr. Potter." Anton stared at Ranma meaningfully. "Consider him under protective custody, but only interfere if it seems his life is in jeopardy or it looks like someone's going to try and spirit him away. Under no other circumstances are you to set foot on the property. Understood?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Get to work. You've got a lot to cover, and no time to do it in."

**************

March 12, 1991

Ranma waited in the park, masked under the Umisen-ken to avoid detection; magical or otherwise. He knew that Harry would be along any moment. It was Wednesday, which was generally Harry's park day. His obese cousin had started taking lessons at some Shotokan hack's dojo, which left Harry locked out of the house until the bloat finished. On sunny days, it wasn't such a hardship, but it took all of Ranma's considerable will not to intervene on rainy days. Luckily today was the former, rather than the latter.

It was surprising to Ranma that the Dursley kid had lasted as long as he had in the program. He had been all but certain that the little whale would have washed out of the class the second week in. But, lo and behold, here they were in the fifth week and Dursley was still going strong. Ranma knew for a fact that the draw for the kid wasn't the Art. It was the blood and bruises he got to inflict on Harry during their "practice" sessions; the evidence was advertised plain as day on the poor kid's face. Perhaps that was the reason Ranma was here in the park, breaking protocol. He hated bullies, but the bleak hopelessness in Harry's eyes was even worse in his book.

There was no real way to stop the bullying. Any overt interference on his part would blow the case completely out of the water. No. What was needed her was a deft touch; something much more subtle. He'd thought long and hard on what he could possibly do to ease Harry's burdens: little gifts, ensured time alone, a secret pet… Ranma had run the gambit. But, the most obvious need was a friend. Potter needed an honest to goodness friend. And, in spite of the risks involved to both the case and Ranma himself, that was what the martial artist intended to give the boy.

Even if Ranma had to be an imaginary friend to do it.

**************

April 15, 1990

Easter Sunday

Time passed as it was wont to do. Sometimes it went quickly, and sometimes it crawled at a snail's pace. Ranma and Kasumi took turns being Harry's hidden friends, talking to him in the park when no one was around, helping him with homework on his way home from school, subtly telling him when Dudley and his gang were about so that he could avoid them. Kasumi would even bake Harry cookies and leave them in a small bag in a secret cubby beneath the slide. Ranma made it a game to see how many different ways he could make Dudley and his gang embarrass themselves without touching them. His pranks were taking their toll too. Dudley was now serving detentions for the rest of the school year for swearing at the teacher while her back was turned. Martial Arts Ventriloquism had its uses.

The Saotomes became real "magical imaginary friends" to a very lonely boy.

But, the best of times were always when Harry found himself alone in a small cluster of bushes in the park, away from prying eyes and nosey kneasles. Neither Kasumi or Ranma would ever visually reveal themselves, but they conversed with Harry about every topic he could think of. They would discuss his grades and talk about his day at school. They would listen as he poured his heart out to them, and offer advice on how he could better himself and his life without incurring the wrath of his relatives.

Harry once commented on the oddity of having imaginary friends at his age, but when asked if he would rather they leave him alone, the answer was a resounding, passionate, "Please stay!" – as if either Saomtome would ever abandon such a needy soul.

The hardest moment, and by far the most tempting incident for both Ranma and Kasumi, came on Easter Sunday. The weather was fine, and families were out in force for the weekend, puttering to and fro with busy abandon. The Dursleys saw fit to take the weekend to travel, and foisted Harry off on Dumbledore's squib watchdog, Arabella Figg. The woman was nice enough, but soon her company pressed and agitated, and Harry found himself in the park – surrounded by reminders of what he had never known. The boy's longing turned to depression fairly quick, and the amount of pure emotion exuded would have done P-Chan proud.

Kasumi wished she could have reached out and hugged the pain away; more so when he called out to her.

"Are you there?"

She only hesitated a moment.

"Yes, Harry."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Are you my mother?"

Kasumi was dumbfounded by the boy's inquiry, and the silence drug out long between them. Harry nervously picked at the hem of his shirt.

"Why do you ask?" Kasumi trod carefully, her heart aching at the dejected look on his face when she side stepped the question. It was all Ranma could do to keep her from blowing their cover.

"Well, a bunch of kids were talking about Easter hols yesterday, and Archie Newford said that he had to go to church for, like, two whole hours today. Well, since I've never been to church before, I asked him what it was all about, you know?"

"And what did he say?"

"Well, he talked about a lot of weird stuff, but he said something that really got me thinking."

"Oh?" Ranma prompted. "What was that?"

"He said that when people die they come back as angels, and that there were all kinds of angels. You know, the singing kind, and the kind that people put on Valentine's Day cards, and the kind that go on Christmas trees. But the coolest kind were the guardian angels, `cause they had these awesome flaming swords!"

"Flaming swords are cool." Ranma's disembodied voice agreed.

"Yeah, but Angie McPherson said that her mum was a guardian angel, `cause she's dead and everything, and that she didn't carry any flaming sword. So, I got to wondering if you were guardian angels with cool fire swords, and if so did that make you my mum and dad?"

Neither Kasumi nor her husband knew how to really address the questions, and it broke their hearts. Not wanting to lie to him, Kasumi wracked her brain for something to say; but Ranma beat her to the punch.

"Sorry Harry, but we ain't your parents."

"…oh…"

"Now, don't go getting' all frumpy on me, Kid. Just because I said we ain't your mom and dad, don't mean we ain't guardians. You get me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now tell me – what does a guardian do?"

"Guard stuff, I guess."

"Yeah? And what does that mean?"

"I don't know. Take care of stuff?"

"Yeah. Go on."

"Protect stuff, maybe?"

"Exactly right. Guardians protect and care for the people or things that they are guarding. They make sure nothing bad happens to their charges and the do everything in their power to see their special people happy. Me and Kasumi ain't guardian angels, but we're guarding you."

"Why can't I come live with you then? Can't you make me invisible too? Then I wouldn't have to live with the Dursleys no more."

Kasumi broke a cardinal rule by gently touching Harry's face through the fabric of her invisibility cloak. Harry jumped at first, but immediately leaned into her touch.

"In a perfect world, Harry," She whispered thickly, with tears in her eyes. "…you would never have to live with those awful people. In a perfect world, Ranma and I could just take you away from all of this and live a happy life. Sadly, the world is far from perfect."

"Kasumi-chan's right, Kid. If we had our way, you'd be our son." Ranma followed his wife's lead and stroked the boy's hair. They held Harry until it was time for him to return to Arabella Figg's. They followed him back to the house and ensured that he was safe; but once she was certain, the dam on Kasumi's emotions broke and she found herself buried in her husband's arms weeping.

**************

May 5, 1991

Anton De Ville motioned for Ranma and his team to seat themselves before his desk as he settled himself in his own chair. His face was a stony mask that tied Ranma's stomach in knots. He handed a sheet of paper to Miguel, who in turn passed it to Ranma to read.

"Holy crap. We nailed `em!"

**************

End Chapter 02


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